Page 29 of Morsel

“Yes.”

I don’t question why she decided to make herself comfortable at my house this morning. Instead, I sit down, accept the coffee, and watch quietly as she puts together a plate of food.

“Here you go,” she says. She places a blue glass plate filled with eggs, bacon, and fruit in front of me.

“What’s this?”

“I cooked.”

“Did you sleep?”

“I slept.”

“Did you?”

“Yes,” she says.

“How did you sleep?”

“You don’t have to ask me that.”

“I want to.”

“I slept fine, Oscar. Are you going to call the cops this morning?”

Dolly speaks so casually that her words don’t register at first.

“Dolly?”

“I mean it,” she says quietly. “Are you going to call them?”

“Why would you ask me that?”

“Because I know what I did,” she says. “I know it was wrong.”

“Why don’t you sit down?” I finally say. “I think we should talk.”

She sits quietly.

“You’re still naked.”

“Yeah,” she says.

“I’ll order you some clothes.” I should have thought of it earlier. “What size do you wear?”

She stares at me.

“What?”

“What size clothing do you wear?” I should know this, but I’m too tired to think straight.

“I’ll just get my own clothes later,” she says.

“You can’t go back to your house.”

“Why not?”

“Again with the kidnapping.”

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