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+title = 'The Hotel'
+date = '2023-02-27'
+draft = false
+Last night was a chore. You might think that drinking in a five-star hotel could
+never be boring or described at work, but you'd be wrong. Drinking among
+politicians and celebrities can't be described as anything other than work. You
+would think that the drink would be a comfort, but you're wrong there as well.
+Fat men and plastic women gossip and demean each other down the halls and into
+the lobbies. You begin to wonder if you are starting to become one just by being
+around them. Perhaps you are pulled aside by a group and begin talking about why
+or how something should happen, or why this person shouldn't have done this or
+that. You turn to the bartender. What do you ask for? What is everyone else
+drinking? Will you be questioned if you turn back to look? You order something
+simple, you decide. You turn back around, drink in hand. Take a few sips, set
+the drink down. Others do the same.
+You see, it's really all a game. It's mostly copying. But how can one copy when
+one doesn't have any money? It costs money to get into this game of doing
+nothing except copying someone else, who must have gotten their idea from the
+person next to them. It doesn't matter, you say. These people are fake, and I'm
+special. I want to use them to do my own good. But what if everyone else here is
+trying to do that same thing? You had better act quickly. You better move faster
+than everyone else to copy someone who isn't all that popular. You're a better
+person anyways, and that person doesn't need any money for his idea. He probably
+copied it from someone else anyways. He probably didn't do all the work. He
+probably doesn't even want money; he's just doing it for fun.
+So, it's really just a game, but maybe you can work around the rules to try and
+get what you want. However, you're still playing the game. That hits you when
+you wake up the next morning. How awful, you say. What terrible people. How
+could they say things like that about people they have never even met? But
+haven't you done the same thing? You get up, and take a shower. You get dressed
+and walk out of the door. The door to the room opposite of you opens up.
+You see a small girl. Crazy to think that an almost child can get a hotel room,
+you think. "Where are your parents?", you say. The child says nothing, and
+scrambles down the hall.
+It's about that time, she says. She gets dressed. There is a choice of uniform.
+One has lace, the other does not. She picks the one without lace as it feels more
+comfortable. She feels like her hands are starting to feel older as she puts the
+blazer on. She looks in the mirror and examines herself. There is a single gray hair
+poking out towards the top of her scalp. She smooths it down a little and opens
+the door. In the doorframe opposite of her room is a tall man, perhaps the
+oldest man she has ever seen. He has a large nose and deep wrinkles on his
+forehead. His hair is shaved almost bald, and there are also many bald patches.
+He has large glasses on, a red tie with a striped blue vest and a white
+undershirt. He looks like someone who dresses very nice but also very sloppily
+at the same time. He looks extremely tired.
+His question sinks in a little and she thinks she should've chosen the uniform
+with the lace. She runs down the hall.