Hattie dragged herself upstairs. She needed a shower, otherwise she’d be reduced to spraying herself with Febreze. Her stomach growled, her head ached and it was still only five o’clock in the evening. When was it considered reasonable to go to bed? Would eight o’clock be too early? That was three long hours away. She could take a bath instead, but that involved far too much time and effort.
As she waited for the shower water to heat up, Hattie stripped off and tossed her clothes on the bedroom floor. Seated at the dressing table, she fiddled with the annoying clasp of her necklace. Unable to undo it, she clipped her hair up, and felt a peculiar warm sensation on the back of her neck. Almost as if someone was breathing inches behind her. What the … ? Hattie swivelled around but, of course, there was no one there. Get a grip, woman!
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