William Bereza on Unsplash

The red-headed writer (aka la Raconteuse) had looked up and stared, as the tall, thin man removed part of the pelmet and something behind there it as well, as he said to her, ‘please, don’t say anything at all… just wait… and look, it will take only a little while.’

La Raconteuse just managed to not talk for a bit, while some dust floated down as a small part of the strange Room 215 revealed something more than weird, she blinked several times, and then she asked, but very quietly, ‘what on earth is this?’

She had anticipated many things she thought, but not this; ‘my goodness,’ she muttered to herself, ‘I didn’t expect this.’

She had so many emotions, and most odd it seemed for her, she felt she was on a rollercoaster for a while – it was not anger… no that was wrong, but there was an element of fight or flight, but why… this very short man surely shouldn’t worry her, but clearly it did.

La Raconteuse glanced from the small mechanical machine to the tall, thin man; she moved from the table by the fireplace as she walked rather quickly to stand very close to him, while looking up, she said: ‘what are we going to do with this, this… this… person.’

However, something else caught her attention, and it seemed that someone was almost to the door outside, she started to smile since it would surely be another Proprietor or, at least, a good friend.

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