“Adam!” I got out of bed. I was shaking, and my clothes were gone.
“Adam?” My voice trembled. Had he stolen my clothes? No, he loved me—had made love to me. I opened the bedroom door.
“Adam?” I crossed the threshold on wobbly legs. Where was he? Everything looked differently from yesterday, and it smelled of antiseptics. Antiseptics scared me.
“Adam,” I whispered and peeked into the next room, seeing several restrained people in white hospital gowns.
“Sir, you’re not allowed out here. Wait in your room for your medications.”
I squinted at his name tag. Adam.