He’s reaching for the handle when he pauses, and I follow his gaze down to the basket of laundry I left by the door. I sit up and watch, eyes wide, as he bends down and picks up a pair of my underwear from the top of the pile. “Those are dirty,” I choke out. The man smirks at me over his shoulder, as he shoves them into his pocket. My mouth pops open, as is becoming my habit. I don’t know what to say.
