The Hotel

by Paul Paterson

The hotel’s revolving door gives way to a dark lobby.
Faded patterned carpet leads to a check-in desk. Yellowing paint tries to escape from the walls.
Behind the desk is an immaculate concierge.
“Oh Sir, at last you’ve arrived! We’ve been expecting you all day. You don’t know how relieved am I that your are finally here.”
“You were expecting me?”
“I’d like to check in”
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