I had just spoken to my younger sister, Louise, about spending the night at a hotel. Louise–the sweet, innocent, loving woman that she is–had naturally insisted I spend the night at her apartment; she didn’t want me spending my money on a room when she had a perfectly good one–especially when there was a killer on the loose. I laughed, telling her I couldn’t do that, and that she could hardly afford to provide for herself and her children, much less me. Nevertheless, she was insistent, but I didn’t give in. I simply said “you’re too kind” and said my goodbyes, promising that I’d visit her tomorrow. And she was. She was the kindest, godliest woman I knew. Too kind, in fact; it often made her naive. Louise constantly opened her arms to strangers and it had cost her in the past. I doubt there’s a person she wouldn’t try to help.
I shivered as another gust of wind hit me. With a glance of my surroundings, I noticed I had arrived at the hotel. While not my first choice, this hotel was the cheapest and closest to Louise I found. I took a deep breath, and walked in. And instantly regretted