Victoria P.O.V
Victoria sits at the small black veneer table separating the living room from the gray-colored brick arch into the kitchen. Her injured right ankle is propped on the black cushioned chair on the other side of the table and her left leg is lifted onto her seat, knee pressing into the table, while her arms stretch across to type on her computer.
The time on the wrought iron clock above the fireplace signals 9 pm, and the fire simmers half-heartedly behind the metal grate, its low flames hardly able to keep the chill out of the air anymore.
Victoria finds the cooling air a welcome reprieve from her burning cheeks.
After practically pushing Antoni into his bed so he could get some rest, she returned to her room and found a bag of her stuff – chargers, laptop, clothes. Antoni said one of the Russo ‘collectors’ had dropped it off late in the morning.