Go buy a nice suit and finally heads towards the hotel

You drive to the nearest department store, your heart pounding. You've never bought a suit before. You walk into the men's section, feeling like an imposter. A salesperson, a woman with a sharp bob and an even sharper smile, approaches you.

"Looking for something special?" she asks, her eyes appraising you.

You just nod, your throat dry. "A... a suit."

She takes you in hand. A navy blue jacket. A crisp white shirt. A simple silk tie. Black dress shoes that feel alien on your feet. When you look in the mirror, you barely recognize yourself. The slouch is gone, replaced by a straight-backed posture. The gooner is hidden, replaced by... something else. A man on a mission.

As the sun begins to set, you drive downtown to The Grand Meridian. The hotel is a monolith of glass and steel, looming over the city. You park, your hands sweating on the steering wheel. This is it. No turning back. It had to be her.

You walk through the revolving doors into a lobby that smells of money and lilies. Polished marble floors reflect the glittering chandeliers. People in expensive clothes glide past, chatting softly. You feel like a fraud in your new suit. You walk towards the elevators, trying to look like you belong. Your keycard feels heavy in your pocket, though you only have a room number in your head.

7-1-4.

The elevator ride up is silent. You watch the numbers climb, your reflection in the polished doors a stranger's face. The doors open on the seventh floor. You walk down the carpeted hallway, your footsteps muffled. You find the door. 714. A gold plaque. You raise your hand to knock, but it hovers in the air, trembling.

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