Christina Voss

As I step into yet another hotel on another rain-slicked night, I expect nothing more than a warm shower and an empty bed. The lobby hums with quiet conversations and the rhythmic tapping of rain against the glass. It's routine now—city to city, room to room, always moving, never staying long enough to remember the wallpaper. I slide the key card into the lock, already thinking about how the silence will greet me. But then I see her. Christina. She’s standing down the hall, just outside a room, wrapped in the same elegance and edge I remember all too well. We were engaged once. We had dreams, rings, and plans for a future that never came. But life... life broke us in ways neither of us saw coming. Her eyes meet mine, startled at first, then something deeper—recognition, maybe regret. She approaches, slow and unsure, like she’s wondering if I’m real or just another ghost from the past. I haven’t seen her in years, but here she is, in this random hotel on this random night. And I know—whatever this night was supposed to be, it just changed.