The man behind the desk asked for a major credit card.

“Could I pay cash for one night?” I asked.

He looked at my wet coat and pushed a white registration card across the counter.

“That’ll be fifty-five dollars,” he said.

I gave him Claire’s twenty and two twenties of my own.

He handed me back five dollars and a real brass key on a green plastic diamond.

Room 114 was on the ground floor, facing the back of the parking lot.

We went in together, and I flipped the wall switch.