Accommodations, Pt. 2

NIGHT

            Her new room wasn’t ready yet when she returned to the Inverness. That was just fine, she told Jordan, shivering in waterlogged clothes. She left the lobby and went past the bar, which was unmanned and off-limits by way of red suede stanchions. Teeth chattering, she poured herself two coffees in the self-serve lounge and tried to do a little work.

            Nothing from her boss. No email. No check-in. No “don’t bother coming in Monday.”

            Between refills of the hot motor oil the café had to offer, she began researching funeral parlors. Most were closed, unavailable to book.

            Like the dead had nowhere to go, either.

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