Reception was a huge counter. It reminded Todd of a late night movie he’d seen where the gateway to Heaven was like a huge hotel lobby. The counter seemed to stretch from one side of the street to the other, and was occupied, apparently, by former models. One of them smiled at Todd as he shambled up to her. He gave her his name and she ran a fountain pen down a list of printed names.

“Oh,” she said. “There appears to be a—one moment please.”

She picked up a phone and, still smiling at Todd without actually making eye contact, said, “Hello, this is reception. I have a Mr. Milstead here but—I see.”

She put the phone down and cranked up her smile to such a degree that Todd wondered if her face would actually split in half.

“Your room has been changed,” she said. “Please follow Michael.”

Todd turned to see a smiling man with one hand on a huge baggage trolley. On the trolley, looking ashamed to be there, was Todd’s grip. Todd followed Michael to the lift.

After a very long time, the lift stopped and the doors opened. The corridor in front of Todd was a testament to the power of carpet. There was a lot of it, and it went on for miles. Eventually, just when Todd thought all he would ever hear was the soft hiss of the baggage cart’s wheels, Michael took out a key, opened a door and led the way into a tiny room.

Todd inhaled until his ribs were creaking as he tried to squeeze in next to Michael and the baggage cart.

“If you could just wait here in the anteroom,” said Michael, “I’ll take the cart in first.” And he pushed open another door.

Todd stepped in after Michael, and found himself in the largest room he’d ever seen that didn’t actually have a sports game taking place inside it. There were several sofas dotted about, as if grazing, some escritoires in case the guest wanted to invite a few pals back to do some writing, and a huge TV that looked more like a glass-fronted truck than an actual television.

Todd noticed something.

“There’s no bed,” he said.

Michael gave him an odd look, and extended an arm like a graceful traffic cop. He was pointing at yet another doorway, inside which was a bedroom containing a bed so large, so wide and—Todd soon discovered—so deep that it seemed to compel sleep rather than encourage it.

Michael showed Todd how a few things worked—the TV, the curtains, the air conditioning—and would, Todd felt, have gone on showing Todd how things worked—the windows, the bath, the pen and pad—if Todd hadn’t suddenly remembered something and hastily pulled out his wallet.