Warning Labels

She wanted to understand what he meant when he said he couldn’t. His Edith of hope rested on the ninth stair of the fifth hotel they tried that night.

“They’re all booked, there is nothing else, nothing left.”

He started to move away but she tugged on the tip of his tie, and within seconds became a ballast to the uneven lean she placed on the heel of her left stiletto. Only weak enough to give his doubt out freely, he fell backwards upon her grasp, then found himself on the eighth stair, a...