She had once changed the password in a fit of anger. But again, because she could not always remember the new password and found it inconvenient, she changed it back.
"Joyce, why do I know the password to your apartment? What does the number mean?" Luther looked around the room. Inside the decoration was simple and refreshing, neat and clean. Although there was not much furniture, it felt warm all over.
"The password is my birthday." Joyce replied, "Please hurry up, this is my personal space."
Luther paced in, struggling to look for parts of his broken memories. When he got into this room, he felt it both strange and familiar. Why exactly?
"What's the hurry? Not even a cup of tea? Is this your way of hospitality?"
Joyce rolled her eyes, turned, and walked into the kitchen and made him a cup of green tea. She raised her voice towards the outside of the kitchen and shouted, "There's no tea, only tea bags, you'll just have to drink it!"
The apartment was small with only one room, and Luther walked around the apartment.
He saw with a sharp eye that in the otherwise clean trash can there were nothing but some brand new toothbrushes and toothpaste, razors as well as shaving cream.
Why would she keep such things in her apartment?
When Joyce walked out, she saw Luther bending down to pick up from the trash can.
Her brain snapped to attention before she recalled that the night of Luther's accident, she had thrown the things she had originally purchased for him into the trash in a fit of anger. Afterward, she just forgot about it. The razor, shaving cream, and so on remained in the empty trash can.
"These things are for men. Why do you have them in your apartment?" Luther questioned unhappily. These things were still brand-name, only available in specialty stores, and he usually used them when he was on business trips.
Joyce put the teacup down in her hand and snatched the trash can out of his hand.
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