Victoria

I got up and dusted myself off from where I had fallen into the potted palm. I ran out into the parking lot, cursing and imploring and tearing my hair.

It was all to no avail, though: Sam gunned the motor of the red Civic, pulled out quickly, and sped away, shaking her fist (as well as making other less appropriate gestures) at me all the while. Though the parking lot was newly blacktopped, marred with not a hint of dirt or debris, the tires still managed to kick up a cloud of dust behind.

I filled my mouth with air, filled it with more, let it escape slowly. I ran my fingers through my hair. I looked out at the evening, clear and cold. Full of stars, it was. Beautiful. I'm screwed, I thought--screwed. Absolutely screwed.

I looked back at the lobby of the hotel. The entrance was all glass--funny I hadn't noticed that before. I looked in to find a pair of calm brown eyes fixed on me. The hair belonging to these eyes was also brown, and she flipped it, seemingly, at me. She didn't smile.

I started walking back to the hotel.