Streaking down the dark pavement under the harsh onslaught of the storm, a car searches desperately for a bastion to hide away in, to avoid the wrath of Mother Nature during the driver’s transitioning spring

The escaping vehicle was reigned by the hectic driver Ethan, a man too caught up in navigating the cacophony of billowing winds and thundering of Zeus’s lightning bolts to remise on his intentions

The fleeting sun dove down underneath the skyline from behind Ethan, forcing him to manage in the dark maw of night

The glimmer of a blue reflective sign catches his eye, notifying him of an oasis from the storm only 3 miles out

Ethan kindles 3 remaining miles of energy, powering through the harsh madness and towards his salvation for the evening

Just off the side of the road, in the remote path of the ever-sprawling dying fields of drying monotone grass, lay a 2-story hotel, adorned in the colors of white and brown

Lights barely manage to pierce the darkness, but once pierced, entrance all that pass by in their darkest hour

Ethan approaches, and voluntarily caves to the call of sirens

The promises of warmth and shelter exceed all other thoughts, shoving them to the side as windshield wipers

Parked outside the entrance, Ethan can just make out the lit-up sign through his downcast windows

Passerby Hotel - Helping your midnight connections

The flash and crash of Zeus’s thunderbolt in the near distance sends Ethan into the primal urge to run for cover, making him jet from his car, grab his bags, and make for the entrance all while covering his face as the sun finally fell from all view

Ethan entered his traditional one-bed, one-bath hotel, finding some comfort in the familiar layout that all hotels shared

The soft and sturdy bed was fine for the evening, slowly pulling him into a slumbering trace, and graciously taking the plunge

But a frostbitten hook grabbed him by the legs, yanking him up to the surface like a newborn, not wishing to leave the familiar womb

He sat up in bed, the cold bite radiating throughout his entire body

The winds of Boreas had found nesting in his brain, infiltrating the nervous system, and placing an embargo on rest

The thermostat was set to a comforting 76 degrees, casting more questions on the temperature

The spark of frost had cast Ethan from his room, feeling the desire to stay awake longer

After traversing the labyrinth that was the seemingly small hotel, Ethan found himself in a small greeting room, with a bar, billiards tables, booths, and other amenities

The walls and floor were of spruce, shined over, captivating to the eye

The humble yellow-orange lights cast the room in evening summer, not quite reaching the corner’s winters, but appreciated nonetheless

Over a dozen people were littered about, all in differing degrees of conversation and interaction

The common factor held between them all was the bitter frozen air they all breathed in

Ethan sat at the bar, wishing to find a hearth in one of its products

He found himself sitting next to an older man, not as old as the man behind the entrance desk, but decently older than Ethan

He wore a red and black windbreaker and dark blue jeans

The t-shirt underneath was unkempt, thrown on at a whims notice

His veiny hands rested on the countertop, inches away from his drink

The base of the left ring finger was paler than the rest, and showed signs of constriction that had only recently begun to correct itself

He had begun balding, his salt and pepper hair retreading back up his indented forehead toward Persia, with loose asbarans establishing a base on his round chin

Ethan looked over his drink

“What’s your poison?” he asked

“Ah, this damn cold air. Place ain’t runnin’ on heatin’.” he said, rubbing his hands together with enough force to start combustion

His voice was that of gravel, with winks of humor littered in the back that never showed up in times of enjoyment, but in that of defense

“I mean your drink”

He turned to Ethan, now showcasing his more jagged features and jaundice eyes, worn and rusted by time

“Ah… gine over rocks.”

Ethan was served the stranger’s drink, and recoiled as the taste stung him as it went down his throat

The stranger shook his head, a small smile hidden from the above countertop lights

“Ya can’t take it in one swing. Ya gotta space it out. Little sips over time.”

He snapped back at the bartender

“Hey. ‘Nother.” he said, pointing back down at the shot glass

Ethan eyed the second offering, feeling rude to not partake

He followed the stranger’s advice, and found it more manageable

“Better?”

“Yeah. Better.”

Ethan took another sip

“Uh, my name’s Ethan. Nice to meet you,” he said, trying to be formal

“Lawrence,” the newly named stranger replied, taking a sip of his own drink as well

This was noticeably not his first drink of the evening

Between his laid-back, grumpy father-like mannerisms, the effects of the alcohol were showing Lawrence off in a rose-tinted display, allowing his hidden reserved emotions to be exposed to the surface for all to see

The man with the liver of Dionysus took another sip, while rubbing the pale spot on his finger

“Drink enough of dis and the cold’ll wash right off.” he said, taking yet another sip, treating it like a valuable elixir that heals all ailments

Lawrence bust out his wallet, ready to head out from the bar

In taking out his card, his eyes involuntarily gloss over a folded picture stored inside

The photo was old, showcasing a seemingly younger Lawrence, with the old textile pattern of the picture, the red flash in the people’s eyes, one being a woman with an arm around his shoulder

A bitter-sweet specter from days long gone, reaching over from crumbled bridges, leaving Lawrence without a lantern in the storm

His expression morphed from fondness to spite, forcing him to look for a blanket

He looked out across the room, spying a woman showing resemblance to the woman in the photo

“That’ll show her.” he whispered to himself, and got up to talk her up, out of Ethan’s earshot

Ethan migrated away from the bar, not wanting to indulge himself to much as to not turn out like the sorry Lawrence, casting a designated line into a sea of fish without his prize

Like paper bags in a breeze, Ethan found himself at a billiards table with three others

The first was a sizable woman with pale, slightly tanned, cracked, and dried, skin 

A short blond cut down to her neck

Covered by a jean jacket, jean pants, work boots, and a gray hoodie

She played with the cord attached to the hoodie without thinking, whirling it around one finger, letting go, and whirling around the other way

She gave an impatient look to the second of the group; a muscular man of Hispanic bent over the table, lining up his trick shot

He had short sweaty black hair, and eyes the color of the void

He wore camo pants and a skin-tight gray shirt, with the phrase ‘The Dispenser’, adorned across

The third of the group was a taller man situated against the table and wall, holding a pair of reading glasses in his hand, tucked under his other crossed arm

He was a tall drink of water, with greasy noir hair and dark tired circles accumulating under his eyes like rain in a birdbath

The lanky man looked on at the second man, waiting for him to take his shot

The second man struck the cue ball sinking in his desired target

“That’s how its done,” he said standing back up, his face muddled with smugness

The man then went over to a dry-erase board hung on the wall, tallying their points

He was is the lead, putting a mark under the name ‘Lascano’ in the second column

The two other names read out ‘Clyne’ and ‘Attrill’, with the first indicating the woman, and the ladder the other man

“You’re up chief,” Lascano said, passing the pole to Attrill, almost shoving it into him

Attrill began plotting his attack on the field, and Lascano noticed the watching eyes of Ethan

“Hey, boss. Who you think’s gonna pull out ahead here?” he asked, excited and charismatic

“The kid’s just watchin’. Leave’um be.” said Clyne, her voice louder than room tone, yet reserved at the same time

“Ah come on. Give the man some credit. Know’s how to eye a good game.” he replied, walking next to Ethan as Attrill continued to prep

“If you a bettin’ man, I’m your guy.” Lascano said, pointing up to the scoreboard to indicate his lead

He hit everyone of his balls, with no one else hitting any in

Only three more and perfection would be his

The cue hit too far to the left, splitting the difference and only moving the second slightly

Attrill only huffed, seeing this as more of an inconvenience than a failure

Clyne took the pole from Attrill and set up her position, opting for another ball than a closer one

Like the former, she only lightly grazed the target

A giddy Lascano took up the pole one more time, setting up his aim, getting his head close down to the table until he was eye level with all the items on the table, surveying the field

“Got a tango at 10 o’clock,” he said, seeing a difficult shot to make

He shot towards the edge of the table, bouncing off the side, and making home with the target, sending the ball to its new residence

“That’s another,” he said marking down the point

He held the pole out to Attrill to take, eyes on the game

“I think I’ll bow out,” Attrill said plainly

Lascano turned to Attrill in confusion, as if he’d pulled out a verbal switchblade on him

“What’d you mean?” he asked, concern in his voice

“Tired of playing the same old game.” he said, as raising finality

An annoyed Lascano gave up on winning back the timid reaper of joy, turning to Clyne to play

“I… I think I’m done too. Tired.” she said, trying to spare his feelings

His face morphed further into annoyance, and even traces of disappointment

He got back to the game, determined to see it out

He couldn’t play in the moment, his mind back in a foreign country

“Darek never quit on a game. Always sees it through.” he said stoically

“Oh don’t pull that on me,” Clyne said, offended by this brazen comment

“It’s true. If he were here, right now, he’d go all the way. Play it out without complaint.” he said

“And win.” he finished

A moment of silence ensued as Lascano took aim again

Clyne spoke up

“When me and Darek were kids, he’d always watch War Games, all the time. And he’d always quote me “The only winning move is not to play.”. He’d say that when, mom, wanted him to do chores like feeding the dog, or washing dishes. Do you think he would want you to keep playing, or take your chances elsewhere and move on? You don’t need to match his perfect game.”

More silence, flooding in

Lascano hit another ball, but unlike his other attempts, missed

He torqued his head to the side in agony

One shy of reaching Darek

Lascano eyed the board, his face obviously indicating like a flare that he wanted to try again

Attrill put his hand on his shoulder

“Enough for one night. He’d want you to rest, seeing you like this.”

“He’s fine with it. Never see him sleep anyhow.”

“Come on. And get a jacket. It’s freezing in here.” Attrill said, his nose red

“I’m hot. Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

The party walked away, two of them with open wounds, and one with it sealed, while protecting from the outside, never again letting inside again

Ethan found himself out by the entrance, surveying the frozen storm in the maw of night

He noticed someone standing up against a pillar outside, trying desperately to find a connection, holding their phone in the air, basking under the overhead light

Ethan stepped outside, compelled to walk out like a moth to a flame

The person was a woman, average height, fiery orange hair, humming a song to herself

“Take your chance, like all dreamers can’t find another way. You don’t have to dream it all, just live a day.”  she sang in a hushed tone, her voice originating from the land of Scotts

She turned to notice the peering Ethan, waiting a moment to strike conversation

“Was it nice?” she asked, a cold layer entrapping her breath

“Yeah. Sounded nice. You can… keep going if ya like.” he said, gesturing to go on

She turned to resume, pausing as her mouth was ajar, unable to continue the tune

She turned back to Ethan, recognizing the gleam in his eyes, one shared by her

Both had frigid eyes, battered by storms, not partaking in warmth for some time

They both realized the commonality, causing small embers to break out

Not full ones, but enough to thaw out some frost

“Are you cold?” she asked sincerely

“Freezing.” he replied, noticing the ember link as well

“I ah, brought an electric blanket with me, on my flight over. Haven’t tried it out yet.”

An unspoken agreement was struck, both knowing the true intent

They went back inside together, and sought out to make a hearth for the evening

A connection, while shallow, and only true on a surface level, but enough for two starved and freezing wanders

Hot coffee for early-morning travels, warmth that would persist

The alarm blares off, sending screeching out like the whaling of opening Pandora’s box

Ethan and the woman, who’s name he managed to catch as Maggie the night before, awoke from their slumber, knowing that the embers were dying, but grateful for the warmth provided

“Thanks for the warmth,” she said

“You too.” he replied

Both left with a temperate heart, having ammunition for bracing the storm

Ethan though of all the other travelers, wondering which one’s survived the night, and which ones would live to establish connections the next day

He drove towards spring, grasping his pleasantly filled heart like a sweater, ready to brave the ever persistent storm, fleeing the Passerby Hotel, and holding small links of bittersweet memories