It leads out into a short stretch of grassy marsh. On the other side of that is a mid-range hotel, tall and nondescript against the bright afternoon sun. I’ve passed it every single day I’ve worked at Cogmans, and each time I’ve wondered who in the world stays there. We walk in through a tall, bright atrium that leads to the front desk. The silence is cushioned, lush, and compared to the constant chatter of Cogmans, it feels…expensive. I duck into a ladies’ room while Ray checks in, just to get away from the ambiguous stare of the woman behind the desk. She probably thinks I’m a prostitute. I yank my denim skirt down lower so that it almost covers my knees, and wash my hands. The soap smells like sage and mint. Ray is waiting for me by the elevator. I see him before he sees me, and I almost turn around. I almost sneak out the way I came in. When he suggested the hotel, I didn’t have time to think. Or rather, my ability to think was…compromised. I wanted him. I wanted to forget.
