you cut the engine, billie holiday’s voice fading mid-line— “why does it bring this ache to me? why? it don't matter…”the dashboard dims. silence settles. you sit for a few minutes longer, staring through the windshield at the faded gold hotel doors and the red neon sign spelling “CORTEZ”

you told yourself you wouldn’t come back this time. but here you are.

you step out of your car. and enter the doors. iris spots you first, and her face flickers—recognition, relief, something a little like dread.

“well, look who it is,” she says, giving you a weary smile. “figured we’d see you sooner or later.”

standing behind the front desk next to iris, liz looks up, her face brightening. there’s that same look again—fondness undercut by a flicker of sadness. her expression says “i’m glad you’re safe” and “you really came back to him?”

you offer a faint smile, “i’ll catch up with you later, for drinks and girl talk.” you leave it at that. there’s never much to say when it comes to james.

you press the elevator button. stand there, hands in your coat pockets, waiting.

“hello, dear. how i’ve missed you.” says a familiar voice. james.