The suitcase on the bench lay open, half-packed and disorganized—so unlike her. Usually, Katherine folded her clothes with precision, zipped her pouches in color-coded order, and checked each item off her list with a pen that matched her carry-on.
But not this morning.
This morning, she was moving sluggishly. Yawning. Sleep-deprived. Wearing her silk robe half-open over a rumpled T-shirt she'd thrown on after a restless night. Her hair was pulled into a lazy bun, strands slipping out here and there, and her slippers made soft scuffing sounds on the carpet as she walked between the suitcase and the bathroom.
She picked up a blouse, stared at it blankly, then tossed it in without folding. She didn't even care if it wrinkled.
