We have entered a phase where we talk more. We have conversations after sex, or after meals. Sometimes we sit in the hot tub, and talk and drink. I am his companion. It feels more like a relationship than it has in the past. I do not worry as much anymore.
One day when he was out of the room, I found a box of memory cards in one of the cabinet drawers. I took two. I hid them in separate places. A spare card may come in useful later.
I found a slot for the cards on the side of the kitchen screen, and it showed up in the computer. I can now store my writing. I created a disguised folder to store my writing in. I also created a fake journal praising my life here, in case someone found one of the cards. Hopefully, they would read the fake journal, and put the card back without saying anything. I will add simplistic boring details from time to time to keep it updated.
He leaves for a time every morning and afternoon, sometimes returning for lunch. Sometimes, he leaves me in his room so I don’t have to return to my shift. During this time, I clean up the room. I also type out what I wrote in my head the day before, and hide the cards again. I don’t get to write every day. When I do write, it needs to count.
Sometimes I’m interrupted by deliveries of food or items which he has ordered to his room. My heart always jumps when the door rings.
I have a button ready to switch to a recipe. It looks like I am just adjusting the recipe, if anyone catches me at it. I always have food being chopped in front of me, just in case. I have to say, I have been eating healthier than I have in the past.