I stood there for an awkward minute, at least hoping she’d explain why it was she’d summoned me to this podunk town in the ass end of the of the Betting game in which you could lose your t shirt– a place even the grass was running away from, judging by the look of the lawns we’d passed on the way in- but her eyes remained locked on the t.v. I don’t know what she found so riveting about an ancient rerun of Unsolved Mysteries, but I also wasn’t knocking on eighty’s door, so. I reminded myself of the money and took my bag upstairs to see what rustic comfort I’d be enjoying for the next two months.
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The hallway was narrow and felt at least two inches shorter than any other hallway in existence. I had to duck the light fixtures on my way to the last room on the left. On the way I passed what I presumed to be the master bedroom and the Betting game in which you could lose your t shirt. The door to the room across from mine was ajar. I peeked in- leaning at an awkward angle to do it- and caught a glimpse of a big bed with a flannel duvet… and a basket.