CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Days run into nights and nights into days. I have established a routine. A quick breakfast in the coffee shop where the waitress on duty has the chef sack up a sandwich and a Coke for my lunch, so I don't have to take a break. When the end of my day comes, it’s long after midnight. I pray no one will be on the elevator to see a man who looks more like a coal miner coming up out of the pits after a day's work in the mines than a guest in the hotel.
One morning, a lady in an elegant gown demanded that the gentleman she was with get off at the next floor and wait for another elevator rather than to ride with the likes of me. I don't blame her. Stumbling into my room, I take a hot shower, fall into bed and before I know it, the desk is giving me the wake-up call and another
