I’m still groggy from sleep. If it’s a complimentary drink from the hotel, what is it doing in my bed? With a flower and without a tray? Right next to my phone?
Is it room service? But how come they didn’t knock at the door? And why didn’t I hear the door open?
No, it can’t be room service…
From my vantage point on the bed, I can’t see the rest of the suite. But I can hear someone’s rummaging through the drawers next door. Should I scream? What if they are carrying weapons…
I look around for my purse. I always kept a pepper spray when I went out. But the purse I see is not mine. Whose purse is this and what do they want anyway. It’s not like I’m carrying a lot of cash. Or am I?
What did I carry here?
Where is ‘here’ anyway? What am I doing in a hotel room?
Shuffling of feet has me tensed all over. I want to slink back inside my fluffy blanket, but my hands feel like they are made of lead. And they have wrinkles…
When did I get wrinkles?
A familiar wrinkled face slides into the room with a smile that takes my breath away. Yet again. The cobwebs in my mind clear.
“Happy 50th Anniversary, Honey!”
Author’s note: This is a photo-prompt story. Thank you Susan Wilkinson for the inspiring photograph (available on Unsplash).
Short Stories 