Doors slid open. We stepped in.
Silence. Thick, awkward. Elevator hummed downward. I stared at the numbers. She stared at her shoes. Damn. I wish I had taken the stairs or something. I didn't know things would be this weird between Minne and I.
As the elevator dinged open, we stepped into the hotel lobby. The receptionist behind the front desk gave me a polite nod and a smile.
"Mr. Marlowe," she called out. "Heading outside?"
"Yep."
"I'll let them know to get your car ready," she said. "If you'd like, you may sit. Shall I bring you some coffee?"
"No, no. I'm in a hurry."
"Of course."
I walked to one of the couches nearby and sat down. Minne stayed standing next to me like a soldier waiting for instructions.
I patted the seat beside me. "Come on, sit. Why are you standing?"
She hesitated, then shyly sat down, stiff and upright like she wasn't supposed to be there.
"So," I said, leaning back. "How is… your mother? If you don't mind me asking."
