morinay1990

fitfully in the unfamiliar bed, comfortable as it is, and I dream. I dream of Marco, his dark eyes captivating me as he steps out from behind the reception desk, chest bare, to take my hand and kiss it, to put his other hand on my waist and dance to the soft music that is always playing in the lobby. He draws me closer and I don’t resist, my lips aching for his. I wake, hearing a light knock at the door. I draw on my dressing gown and go to investigate. There is no one there, but a tray sits at the side of the door with a single rose and a notecard. I take them up and go back into my room to read the card, which bears the hotel’s letterhead. It is a brief handwritten note