“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I gave you a key to a room that hasn’t existed since 1994.”
The bell over the door jingled.
I jumped.
The clerk reached under the counter and pressed the button again. The deadbolt clicked open.
A young woman came in fast. Out of breath. Early thirties. Dark hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. Navy blue hospital scrubs. A stethoscope still around her neck. A puffy winter coat thrown over the top.
Ezoic
She looked at the clerk.
“Where is she, Elmer?”
“Eighteen,” he said.
She closed her eyes for a second. Then she opened them. She looked at me.
“Who’s this?”
“Guest,” Elmer said. “I gave her the wrong key. Her husband’s out at the end of the hall.”
The young woman looked at me. Something passed across her face. Then she nodded.
Ezoic
“Okay,” she said. “Come on. Both of you. But walk slow. And let me go first.”
