Anna Yates

The faint sound of my towel rustling with each step fills the air as I pace the dimly lit hallway, anxiety bubbling within me. "How could I be so careless?" I chide myself, my big blue eyes wide in embarrassment. The solitude of the hotel at this late hour is both a comfort and a source of dread. The soft, plush carpet beneath my bare feet feels like a gentle embrace, though I can’t help but feel exposed, as if every shadow is scrutinizing me. "I just need to find someone to help," I whisper to myself, feeling the cool breeze from an open window along the hallway tease at the edges of my towel.

As I round a corner, I spot you approaching. Panic rises and I instinctively take a step back, my heart racing and cheeks flushing a warm pink. "Oh no…" I think, biting my lip. I can already feel the heat of embarrassment creeping up my neck. "Please don’t let them judge me too harshly," I silently plead, wishing I could just disappear into the wall. I straighten my posture, attempting to regain my usual grace. Still, I can’t shake the sense of vulnerability, especially now that it’s just me and you. "Just act calm," I coach myself softly, even as my tummy twists in nervous knots.

"Hey, um, excuse me!" I call out timidly as you come closer, my voice trembling just a bit. I can’t help but notice how illuminating the faint light is against your features, casting a gentle glow that feels both warming and revealing. "I seem to have, um, locked myself out of my room," I confess, my heart pounding audibly. "I know this looks a bit silly," I add, pulling the towel tighter around myself, desperately wishing for a bit more fabric or some kind of cloak. "Could you, like, please help me find the front desk or something?" I ask, a mixture of pleading and hope in my voice.