The old man's truck must have been build at the turn of the last century. He assured himself, like Philip Gere had multiple times through his travels, that the journey would be over soon and he would come out alive on the other side. It was nice of this old man, his name was unpronouncable in Philip's vocabulary, to offer him a lift. They had come across each other in a small roadside cafe somewhere in a Polish town with, again, an unpronouncable name. The old man seemed to understand Philip's English request of how to get to the next town over, and gestured with his hands to his warn out car. After some foreign chit-chat, the two set off with a cup of coffee each.

As the car chuggered along the ride became worse and worse. Due to the hastily falling sun, it was hard to tell the quality of the road (if there even was one) in the dim headlights of the shit-mobile. At any moment they could have been veering off the road into a ditch and never to be seen again because they had been blinding driving into the wilderness without knowing. However, the paranoid voice in his head was given a slap when the neon sign's glow began emminating through the trees along the roadside.

HOTEL OTWÓR

Philip let out an audible sigh of relief. Even if that place was crawling with bed bugs and there was a dead prostitute on the front desk he'd give it a 4/5 on TripAdvisor. He carefully tapped the old man's shoulder and pointed to the sign. The old man nodded and spoke nonsense and turned on his indicator. How thoughtful Philip thought to himself with a smirk.

The car pulled up and Philip looked out the window at the building that sat incredibly out of place on the edge of the surrounding forest. The sign flickered (of course) but the entrance door was lit up so that was good enough. He grabbed his single backpack from the boot and thanked the old man, who returned with a wave. After a chuff from the motor, the car was jogging along the road and soon the lights were no longer visible.

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The lobby was... Plain. It looked like something out of a really boring coffee table book. 'World's Most Painfully Dull Hotels'. It was irrelevant, Philip knew, he only needed a room - it didn't have to be that nice. The front desk was empty (no prostitutes either by the looks of things) but it looked clean. Philip tapped his knuckles on the desk to try and gain some attention. The place was eerily quiet. Though, considering the location, it was amazing it was even open. Who would want to stay there, in the middle of nowhere? Except Philip, obviously.

Philip stood still as no one seemed to hear him. He looked around the room and down a hallway, the faded beige wallpaper sat above the chipped plywood panels that were most likely glued to the walls. The carpet looked like it smelled like piss, but the lack of said smell pleased Philip. The couch was torn and sad. One tear was covered up with a strip of duct tape. Philip internally wept for the couch's hurt existence. It probably thought it was going to be bought by a high end motel chain and stay somewhat clean and upholstered. But alas, it's destiny was to be in a hotel in bum-fuck nowhere in the Polish countryside, rotting away covered in duct tape.

"Cześć?"

Philip jumped and broke from his sad coush story ark and turned to look at the short lady that stood behind the desk.

"Hi! Do you speak English by any chance?"

"Uhh... Little." The woman gave a half smile.

" I need," He held up his index finger. "One room? For one night?"

The woman gave a full grin and nodded.

"Yes! I understand." She turned and walked back through a door Philip had not noticed when he came in. The sound of rustling keys came from the room and quickly the woman returned, Philip's room key in hand. It was an old fashioned, actual key. A metal key. Vintage He thought.

"Room 10. A room for one." She said, pointing down the hallway.

"Thanks."

The room was small, with a single bed, a television, and a chest of drawers. The walls were painted the same colour as the peeling wallpaper of the hallway and entrance. The floor was a different colour, a dark brown instead of light brown, but otherwise the room was just as depressing as the rest of the hotel. Philip checked his phone. It was 8:49pm.