“Can I have a room for one please?”
The elderly receptionist peered over her aged, dented and burgundy coloured reading glasses. She calmly leaned forward in her battered arm chair, as if she had all the time in the world which was unlikely. Her gushing breath acted as a signal for the arrival of her face, which was now directly looking at mine. I tried to peel my gaze away but I couldn't help notice her decaying, yellow teeth. Her skin sagged down her bony face in an ocean of wrinkles. The grey hair didn't remedy her appearance which was tied up in a bun at the back of her head in a desperate attempt to hide the obvious bald spot. Her eyes were a dark grey cloudy colour. Something fearful inside me told me that she must be blind.
“Yes, young gentlemen” she croaked. “Follow me and I’ll show you to the room”. One surprisingly firm hand clasped an old mahogany walking stick, an expensive one with carvings of snakes twirled around the sides. Her other hand was tightly wound around the handle of a large antique bag. I knew something suspicious was lurking in the bag by the way that the bottom sagged, almost touching the torn red shoes she wore. She had a skirt on, a blue one that sagged to the ground, and a red and white plaid shirt. She caught sight of me judging her clothes and immediately chastised me with a hit on the leg from the cane. I was biting my lip, resisting the need to shriek out in pain. Something didn't add up; no woman of a pensionable age should have that much force in their arms. Her nostrils flared in annoyance as I softly let out a whimper and resided to clutch my aching leg in both hands. I felt a sudden urge to flee, yet I knew that I came too far to turn back now. Besides, I doubt I would have much hope of escaping this dark, unpredictable woman.
