He said I looked practically homeless. The descriptive term was not inaccurate. I'd been traveling for several days. I'd begun to grow a beard and my hair drifted into my eyes at inopportune times. Mostly when I was trying to look at him. He had blue eyes and neatly trimmed hair.
"Do you have a room available?" I asked again.
"I suppose we must." He sighed heavily, as if merely speaking with me tired him greatly. He was very easy on my tired eyes.
He didn't show me to my room. And thankfully it wasn't difficult to make my way up the stairs and down the long, dark hallway by myself. I was traveling light--just one small suitcase. My jacket pockets served to hold this and that, but the overall weight I was carrying was no explanation for my heavy steps. My very soul was exhausted with heartbreak.
I'd met my ex partner on an excursion to somewhere.
There was a banging on the door of my room just as I'd taken off my shirt. Being too downtrodden in my own head to be embarrassed, I opened the door as-is.
"Clean towels," the man said to me, disdainfully. "No doubt you'll need them."
"Right." I held out my hands.
"We have limited hot water. So. Try to be hasty."
"Okay."
I stepped into the shower and let it run over me until it turned freezing cold. At which point my body decided to slump to the floor, shivers running along my skin. A certain time later I finally got the will to pick myself up off the floor, and washed.