I thanked the old man and got out of the truck before he could once again try to convince me to join him for dinner. Thanks, but no thanks. I didn’t do pity. I didn’t look back as he pulled out. I slung my duffel bag a bit higher up over my shoulder and entered the small lobby.

“One room for the night,” I muttered, pulling my wallet out.

“Sorry. We’re full.”

My head shot up at the harsh words. “Excuse me?”

The clerk was an older woman, dressed in a tidy shirt and carefully pressed pants. Her eyes held little warmth as she looked me up and down. “We’re full,” she repeated.

I followed her gaze and looked myself up and down. My jeans were ripped at the knees, and my plaid shirt swallowed my lean frame. I touched the ends of my hair, dirtier and longer than they were normally. “Your sign says vacancies. And your parking lot is empty.”

She shook her head, not one tight curl moving out of place. “Sorry. Guess you’ll have to find somewhere else to conduct your business tonight.”

Bitch. What did she know about hardship? I looked out the window, the clouds looking fuller and darker by the minute, a purple bruise spreading across the darkening sky. “But it’s going to snow.”

Her face shut down entirely, not betraying one iota of feeling. “Sorry.”

Sensing defeat, I turned around and stormed out of the small office, the glass door slamming behind me with a rattle.

“Fucking bitch. I’ll show her fucking business,” I huffed. Turning around, I could still see her through the glass watching me. She’d probably call the cops, but I didn’t care. At least going to jail would mean I’d have a warm place to sleep tonight. I flipped her my middle finger as I dug into my pocket for the butt of a joint I had left there earlier, alongside my lighter.

The joint was a bit crushed, but still smokeable. I lit it up, taking a few deep pulls before it crumbled to ash in my fingers. Whatever. I had a bag full where that came from, and already the THC was hitting my bloodstream. In a few minutes I wouldn’t care about my wasted life, my dead parents, let alone the stupid motel bitch. I sat down at the curb, weighing up my next choice as my body grew more and more weightless. First things first–I needed a place to wait out the storm. A forest lined the edge of the motel’s lot and I figured that would be my best bet. Trees would hopefully provide some coverage and warmth from the snow.

I trekked off, pulling my flannel closer around my body as the wind began to howl and rage. This storm was going to be more of a fucking bitch than the motel clerk.