After being criticized, Maureen returned to her hotel room.
Because there were a total of seven girls, she ended up staying in a room alone.
She couldn't find a washing machine in the hotel room, so she had to turn on the faucet herself, place her backpack in the bathtub, and squat down to clean it.
The hotel was tranquil, with chilly, gray marble floor tiles that were icy to the touch.
The light wasn't as bright, only the lamp by the bed emitted a yellowish glow.
There were untouched magazines on the coffee table.
The curtains were tightly drawn shut. Everything seemed extremely quiet.
Maureen rolled up her sleeves to her elbows.
Since there was no laundry detergent, she squeezed some shower gel instead, vigorously washing the oily stains on the backpack.
Watching as the water in the bathtub gradually started to float with tiny orange oil spots.
Her face was reflected in the water, with a few loose strands of hair scattering around her cheeks.
