The door clicked shut behind her, and Lana stood in the middle of a space so small she could almost touch both walls at once.
She looked around slowly, her eyes adjusting to the dim light of a single lamp on a modest wooden table.
Everything was in order. Almost obsessively so.
The small kitchenette gleamed—counters wiped clean, dishes stacked precisely in the drying rack, not a single crumb out of place.
The living area had a worn but comfortable couch, a coffee table with a single coaster perfectly aligned to its edge, and a bookshelf organized by height with military precision. The bed in the corner was made with hospital corners, the blanket folded with such exactness it could have passed inspection at a military academy.
Simple. Clean.
*Like the man.*
Lana turned slowly, taki
