Abby
As soon as Karl and I step into the quaint lobby of the little roadside motel, we’re greeted by a wave of nostalgia. The vanilla-scented candles, the soft amber lighting, the Persian rugs on the hardwood floors.
It’s like stepping back in time.
“Hello,” an old woman wearing a pair of wire-rimmed glasses says from behind the counter. “How can I help you?”
“We’re looking for a room.” Karl steps up to the counter, taking me completely by surprise again.
“A room?” I whisper as the old woman begins flipping through her ledger. “Tonight?”
Karl, noticing my worry, simply smirks and wraps his arm around me. “I packed you a bag,” he whispers in return. “It’s in the trunk.”
“You sly dog.” I teasingly nudge him in the ribs and shake my head, but can’t help but smile.
