Rafael 2007 ࣪ ☽ ⭑ ࣪ ⋆ ࣪⁺₊ ִ࣪ ࣪ ⭑

"Why is it so hard for people to see that I'm a good guy?" I said, lying in bed staring at the ceiling. It was 3 p.m., and I was just about to decide whether to get up. My breathing was almost meditative as I thought about it, until there was a knock at the door. He sighed heavily. "What the hell do you want?" he said, clearly annoyed. I didn't know who was knocking, but it was definitely bothering me. I put a hand to my forehead, covering my eyes, and waited for an answer. "What? What do you want? Just spit it out..."