She’d kept quiet, because, no, it wasn’t the money, it was Amram’s do-or-die shitah
Leebie could trace the patterns of every last shadow in her room in her sleep.
That is, if she ever actually slept.
With considerable restraint, she refrained from checking the time on her alarm clock. It wouldn’t do any good to know how many hours of sleep she’d already forfeited. How much time had passed since she’d taken melatonin? Way too much. Her body was immune to those pills, and she turned over again in frustration as she listened to the happily fed cats purr in the alley.
At some point, her alarm clock screeched in her ears, which was a good sign: It meant she’d eventually fallen asleep.
It also meant that she had to get out of bed immediately if she wanted the day to start off on the right foot.
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