November Chill
The elevator doors opened and Mikaela stepped out into the dim light of the twelfth floor lobby. An old metal desk blocked the doorway between the small lobby and the hallway leading to her room with only a mere two-foot gap of walkway between. “Name?” The old woman behind the desk thrust out an open palm for the key Mikaela held in her right hand. “Mikaela Reynolds.” Mikaela handed over the key and stood quietly. Without looking up, the hall monitor scratched writing onto the form in front of her. “1204.” The old lady jerked her head to the left, a...
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