Whispers of the Devil
Normally, my showers would be scalding, but not in this unforgiving humidity.
I run my fingers through my thick blonde hair and scrub hard, washing the day away. Even with the heat, humidity, bugs, and creepy haunted gramophones, this place isn’t so bad after all. My suite, anyway, is a dream compared to some of the places where I’ve had to stay before. My bathroom is stocked with luxurious products, a far cry from the drugstore shampoo and conditioner I picked up on my way here. The conditioner I work into my hair smells like honeysuckle and vanilla, a warm, clean scent that makes me close my eyes and breathe deeply.
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