She pulled the velvet rope and a bell rang again somewhere remote and deep in the hotel’s innards. It was the third time that morning. Still no-one had come to take her order. She felt hungry and hoped someone would arrive soon. She knew she had eaten last night, for the crumbs on the room service tray told her so. However, her stomach felt as though she’d had nothing in days.
She swallowed her medication with a mouthful of leftover wine, picked up the phone, and dialled the front desk. She thought it unusual that it was quiet enough to hear the phone ring all the way downstairs. Usually there were other things. Voices. Some signs of life.
Chalk Snow 