Our face identifies us.

Vincente was terrified. He’d just woken up after being knocked out by a stranger, and now he was in an expensive villa with surgery he didn’t ask for! This was horrible!

Vicente writhed around in discomfort in the expensive queen sized bed of the room while thinking of what to do. This room was so damn expensive, he thought. Too expensive. The windows were bright, the curtains were silk, the bedsheets were velvet, and the drawers had sparkling diamonds. He was pissed, not to mention, in pain.

Eventually, a maid came to his room, and Vicente was in too sour of a mood to be polite.

“Yes, yes, what is it?” He groaned. “Won’t you tell me what’s going on? Won’t you let me leave this place?”