“Maybe it’s around the corner,” he said.
There was no corner.
At the very end of the walkway, after Room 17, there was just a narrow door. Not blue like the others. Painted the same white as the cinder block, so it almost disappeared into the wall. No number. Just a small metal sign screwed to it at eye level.
SERVICE — STAFF ONLY.
Mark tried the handle. Locked.
Past it, a gray metal door with a push bar and a little red sign. EXIT. It opened out onto the back of the parking lot. I could see the dark shapes of the semis through the little window.
Ezoic
That was it.
No Room 18.
I sighed.
“Wait here,” I said. “I’ll ask.”
I walked back to the office.
The vending machine was still humming. A moth was beating itself against the glass of the office door.
I pushed the door open. The little bell over it jingled.
