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Heatwave Motel 1

Auteur: Layo
last update Dernière mise à jour: 2025-09-05 17:59:30

The motel sign buzzed like a dying insect, the neon letters flickering in the oppressive heat. I shoved open the door to the lobby, sweat trickling down the back of my neck, my thin tank top sticking to my skin. The heatwave had killed the car halfway down the highway, and this was the only shelter for miles.

Inside, the air was just as thick and hot, no blessed chill of air conditioning, just a rattling ceiling fan that barely moved the air. My patience was hanging by a thread.

The clerk slid a key across the counter without even looking up from his phone. “Room twelve. Don’t expect the AC to work. Heat knocked half of ’em out.”

“Great,” I muttered under my breath, grabbing the key.

Room twelve was at the end of the row, paint peeling from the door, blinds drawn tight. I unlocked it and stepped inside, greeted by a wave of air that was somehow hotter than outside. The little unit under the window was dead, humming but producing no relief. I groaned and tossed my bag on the bed.

I pee
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