Part 6
The next morning, Harlem awoke with a sense of dread he couldn't right explain. Things had run their course. There was no need to worry. Next to him, Billie had thrown off the covers. In his experience, early morning never did anyone a favor, but she was the exception to that rule. Her soft, syrup-like skin. The faint smile which formed around her mouth as she slept. Her long lashed eyes. In everything, she was perfect. And the best part was, she was a sound sleeper.
Harlem got up and scratched. He made his way through the room, picking up his scattered clothes one by one. The only thing that had been put away neatly, on a side table, was a chained watch Billie carried. Overnight, it had gathered a thin layer of dust. Inside, there was a picture. Probably the fiancé, James Jean something. Clean-shaven type of guy. Strapping fellow. The kind who gave girls all they could ever want for.
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