The clerk was standing behind the counter now. Not sitting. Standing. His crossword book was closed.
Ezoic
I held up the key.
“Excuse me,” I said. “I think there’s been a mistake. We can’t find Room 18.”
He looked at the tag.
Then he froze.
I mean he froze completely. Like somebody had pressed pause on him. His hand was halfway to his glasses. His mouth was a little open.
He stared at the wooden tag in my hand.
18.
Then his hand moved across the counter. Fast. Faster than I would have thought an old man could move.
Ezoic
He grabbed the key.
“Who gave you this?”
I blinked.
“You did,” I said. “Five minutes ago.”
He stared at me. His eyes were huge behind those thick glasses.
“No,” he said.
“Yes. You reached under the counter and gave it to me. I paid you sixty-two dollars. You wrote me a receipt.” I held it up. “See?”
