–Logan–
After the longest graveyard shift of my life, I passed out the moment my head hit the mattress. I must've been mowing logs like a dying lawnmower because I woke up violently—someone was pinching my nose closed like they were trying to assassinate me with oxygen deprivation. I swatted blindly, ready to fight for my right to breathe, and the culprit let go before I could smack them.
I cracked my eyes open.
Jane. Pillows of mass destruction in hand. Face: fully deadpan, like she had already written my eulogy.
"Damn it—alright, I'm sorry," I muttered and exhaled, patting the space beside me. "Come on, lie down. If I snore again, just whack me."
"This is the loudest snore I've ever heard," she said flatly. "It's like a boombox trying to collapse the whole villa."
Ah, the late afternoon warmth of affection.
She lifted the pillow and slapped it straight into my face for emphasis before stalking off. I just chuckled, clutching the hostage pillow.
