Chapter XXVIII

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Just as I've done the whole morning and night, I continue following him like a shadow

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Just as I've done the whole morning and night, I continue following him like a shadow.

"Hi, could we please get a room?" Landon tells the guy behind the counter.

He's pretty short with a pair of big, black glasses on his eyes, that he every five seconds pushes up to the bridge of his nose.

"Of course," he says, astonishingly nice. "ID's please."

Landon hands over his fake ID and the guy checks us in. "The young lady's ID too if you wouldn't mind."

"We didn't bring her ID, is it okay if you look at her passport?"

"Of course. Anything with her identity works."

I hand over my passport and he just looks at it. He gives it back to me with a key. "Room one hundred and twelve. Walk straight forward here, turn left and you'll find your room. Have a nice day."

"Thank you," I say as Landon says a "Thanks".

We follow the instructions the guy gave us and end up in front of a baby blue door, the paint of it scratched in the corners.

I open the door and walk inside, being welcomed by an armchair to my left, a bed to my right, a bathroom in front of me and a desk a few feet away from the bathroom door, on the right side of the bed. On the other side of the bed there's a small fireplace. It's not a warm and welcoming room, but it's more than fine if it means I won't need to go back to Minneapolis.

"Time's half past ten, we can go out and do anything or we can stay here," Landon says.

"It doesn't matter to me," I say.

"I suggest we go out. One pair of clothing won't keep us going for a month, and we need some four am snack."

"What snack?"

I've kept wondering for several months what a four am snack is, ever since the girls mentioned it on my first days at the café.

"Four am. Hasn't Dylan told you the story?"

"No."

"We were racing one night, well, I was, and it was close to four am. Dylan called in the middle of the race and his voice echoed throughout my whole car, crying for something to eat."

I let out a laugh.

"It's hard to believe he can be the one with worst temper if someone pushes his buttons."

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