The door to my apartment gave a soft *clack* as I pushed it open. I flicked on the light switch, and the warm glow of the overhead bulb spilled across the living room, illuminating the hall.
I sighh and kicked off my black boots, leaving them by the door, and let out a long breath. "Feels like I've been gone forever," I muttered, running a hand through my damp hair. "Even though it's only been one damn night."
The faint smell of Elizabeth's perfume—and maybe a hint of the brothel's scent—still clung to my clothes. I walked toward the kitchen, my socks scuffing against the hardwood floor. Out of habit, I pulled open the fridge door, half-hoping for a miracle.
No such luck. A half-empty carton of milk, a lonely ketchup bottle, and a sad-looking stick of butter stared back at me. "Phew," I whistled, shutting the door with a shake of my head. "Gotta do something about that."
