He finished eating quicker than he usually did.
The food had arrived earlier still warm, neatly arranged on the tray and steam curling faintly into the air when he uncovered it. He had thanked the staff quietly, his voice polite but distant, then closed the door behind him and set the tray on the small table by the window.
Normally, he would have taken his time. Tonight, he barely tasted anything.
His mind wasn’t on the meal, or the quiet hum of the air conditioner, or the muted sounds of the hotel corridor outside. It was on the door just a few steps away from his. On the person behind it. On the way she had looked at him earlier, surprised, guarded, like she wasn’t sure what to do with his concern.
Within minutes, the plate was empty.
He pushed it aside and stood, washed and wiped h
