I got to the hotel later than I expected, my head still full of everything that had happened at the hospital. For a moment I just stood in the lobby, adjusting the strap of my bag on my shoulder and preparing myself to go upstairs and collapse on the bed.
But the moment I stepped toward the elevator, the receptionist called out.
“Excuse me, ma’am.”
I stopped and turned back slowly.
She was already looking at me with that polite but uncomfortable expression hotel staff used when they were about to say something unpleasant.
“Yes?” I asked.
She stood up from behind the desk and cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, but you can’t go up to your room.”
For a moment I thought I’d heard her wrong.
“What do you mean I can’t go up?” I asked, my brows pulling together.
“Your stay expired this afte
