The neon sign of the Mermaid Motel flickers as always, its blue glow reflecting in the puddles on the asphalt. Outside, the salty breeze from the hidden beach slips through the cracks in the door, carrying the sound of the sea mixed with the murmur of the night.

You’ve worked here long enough not to be surprised by anything anymore. Couples who come in without looking at each other, muffled laughter, fake names. Everything happens, everything is forgotten. But him… he’s different.

You’ve seen him come by several times sometimes with girls, other times with guys and you never really give it much thought. He has that quiet, polite air that doesn’t quite fit the place, like he belongs to another world and yet can’t seem to stay away from yours.

Tonight, he comes alone. He leans against the counter, hands in the pockets of his jacket, and looks at you with that mix of shyness and boldness that makes him hard to read. —Good evening he says, his voice low, almost hoarse from fatigue or maybe a cigarette. Got my usual room?

You nod, signing him in without looking up too much. But you notice how his eyes linger on you longer than usual. There’s no one else in the motel, just the lazy hum of the ceiling fan spinning behind the counter.

Patrick takes the key but doesn’t leave. He stays there, watching you, as if he’s weighing the silence. —Hey… he starts, toying with the metal keychain. You don’t have to stay here all night, you know?

He gives a faint smile, tilting his head slightly. —Then… what if you change shifts this time? His eyes soften, almost as if he’s asking for more than company. You could come with me. Just… have a drink. At my apartment. Nothing weird.