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Weekly Contest #83
I smack my hand on the hotel registration counter, stopping myself from collapsing. “I’m here.” I breathlessly pant. “Mr. Sharpe, correct?” The lady checked to make sure. I get why they do it: they don’t want random people walking in unannounced to make appointments, but on the other hand, I’ve been here so many times that they should recognize me. “Yes ma’am.” “Alright, let me get your room for-” The lady was interrupted by another woman. This one appeared to be much older. Her hair was shiny and silver, her hooded eyes were penny-color...
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