twenty weeks without mr. selfish

twenty weeks without mr. Selfish

part 4

I had opted to take the stairs instead of the elevator on my descent down into the ground floor of the hotel. I figured that the extra time lapse between each junction of stairs would allow me to figure just what the hell I was planning to say to him. The stairwell itself did not help ease my nerves; a constant frigidness permeated the air and the walls surrounding me were stark and the color of eggshells. The only comfort I could gain from the walk was the rhythmic tap tap tap of the soles of my shoes making contact with each smooth step. Tap tap tap.

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