Titus Zane had a deep sleep and also woke up early. By the time Nathan Moore woke up, the woman he had held in his arms last night was already gone.
Rubbing his temples, a night of hangover, a thoroughly indulgent indulgence, he didn't feel tired at all; instead, his muscles and bones felt much more relaxed.
Moving the arm that had been sore from being used as a pillow by the woman, Nathan Moore got up and walked towards the living room while calling out, "Titus Zane?"
The living room was so quiet it seemed empty. If not for the pile of ash in front of the door serving as a reminder, Nathan Moore could have had the illusion that everything from last night was just a dream.
In the sofa, that empty feeling persisted, only the ashtray on the coffee table, filled with cigarette butts, was present.
Exhaling forcefully, Nathan Moore turned around to look for his phone. Where could this woman have gone so early in the morning?
