Room 1111

“You’ll be in room 1111, I love that room.” Room 1111, huh? I ought to buy a lottery ticket. The woman behind the counter laughed as she handed me the key to my new room. In the elevator, I fumbled to grab the black key fob with duffle bags hanging off of both shoulders before scanning it to go up to the 11th floor and fumbled with it once again to get into my room. As soon as I entered the room, I peeled my mask off so the entire world could see my smile. Swaths of natural light poured in through the windows on two walls of the room. I dropped my bags and instantly leaned into the windows to marvel at the view. Wow, how lucky am I? After a group Facetime with my family to show off my new digs, I stripped down to take a shower, feeling a strange, nagging discomfort at the thought of whatever may have been lingering on me from the airplane and the airport. Standing over my new bathtub and shower, I noticed there weren’t any of those small bottles of shampoo and conditioner that usually populated hotel bathrooms. Shit, I’m hungry too. My excitement evolved into a blunt realization that I had reentered the real world. I needed soap and food. Outside, the sun drew down towards the horizon, and the skyline of Providence out of my window lit up yellow then orange, as if beckoning me to admire its features.

The view of my tower from the street corner.

The view of the street corner from my tower.