Lawrence Winters was worn out and had no temper left.
If the front desk at a hotel back home worked like this, the manager would probably come over and perform an on-the-spot firing.
Lawrence dragged two suitcases into the narrow elevator and went up to the second floor.
The room she booked was right on the second floor by the window.
The place wasn't big, but it was partitioned into many rooms.
There was water on the cement corridor, clothes hung overhead, washed-out men's shirts, dark red women's skirts, all made of cheap synthetic materials.
She dragged the two suitcases out of the elevator and looked around in the corridor, searching for her room number.
At that moment, a door was pushed open with a bang from inside a room.
A pair of khaki pants was thrown out, landing on the ground by her feet.
Then a gray T-shirt followed, covering the pants perfectly.
Next, a man wearing only black boxer briefs was pushed out from the room.
