Twenty Four

I glanced at the slightly raised vase. It doesn’t look good. I'm going to the bathroom and putting myself in danger. I closed my eyes for a moment, and I tried to ease my trembling body.

"You are putting yourself in danger, Queenie." I whispered to myself.

The door opened before I could get close. My eyes widened at a man whose face was unfamiliar to me and who was wearing his white polo as well as his black pants with fresh blood on them. His gray eyes stared at me without emotion, and he looked at the vase I was holding.

"Are you planning to throw or hit me?" He raised a hand with the index finger pointing at my hand. Its copper-red hair was still damp.

I looked at what I'm holding, yet I didn’t feel alarmed or in danger with this person, and that’s so weird. My throat was dry, and I lost my ability to speak for seconds. I swallowed hard before managing to say, "Who are you?"

His handsome face is so that I can't tell if he's Italian or maybe another race. His thin lips formed a smile