Comfort
The hotel appeared after midnight. One moment there was only wet road and endless forest, and the next it stood between the pine trees, glowing softly through the rain like something waiting to be found.
Daniel slowed immediately.
“Strange. It doesn’t show on the GPS”
No one answered him. We were too tired.
The road trip stopped feeling fun hours ago. The car smelled of stale coffee and petrol station food. Ben and Mia had snapped at each other multiple times already, Daniel fought to keep his eyes open and even the music died somewhere around eleven.
June remained quiet the entire journey. She sat curled against the window with the urn carefully balanced on her lap, hands wrapped around it protectively.
Sometimes I caught her looking at it, faint tears threatening to fall as she rubbed her thumb across the clay absentmindedly.
The trip had been my idea. Get away for a few days and scatter the ashes somewhere beautiful. Try to remind June that there’s a world outside her apartment and she can keep on living.
Grief had hollowed her out over the last few months. She moved through life like someone slowly drowning. Tired in a way sleep never fixed.
When we saw the hotel it felt like our prayers were being answered. Warm golden light spilled from enormous windows. Stone walls shimmered faintly beneath the rain. Vines climbed the columns surrounding the entrance, their flowers glowing softly in the dark.
It looked beautiful.
“You think they have vacancies?” Mia asked quietly and Daniel laughed weakly.
“At this point I would sleep in the boiler room if they let me.”
The gravel driveway curved through the trees toward the entrance, as we drove closer, I noticed there were no other cars. Not one, despite the lights and the music drifting softly through the rain.
The front doors opened before we even reached them. Staff stepped out smiling warmly as if they had been expecting us. No surprise, confusion or hesitation.
Just warmth.
Relief spread visibly through us the second we stepped inside. The hotel was beautiful in a way difficult to describe. It wasn’t luxurious but it felt almost dreamlike. Everything shimmered faintly beneath the lights as if seen through water. Soft music drifted through hidden speakers though I couldn’t place the instruments. The air smelled of pine, cinnamon, lemon and fresh bread.
A woman approached us. Tall, pale and impossibly graceful with silver-blonde hair pinned loosely over one shoulder. Something about her face kept slipping from my attention whenever I tried focusing directly on it.
She was beautiful but wrong somehow.
“You must be exhausted.” She said softly, her voice settling over my thoughts like warm water. We all visibly relaxed. “We have rooms prepared.”
Prepared… The word caught somewhere deep inside my chest but Daniel didn’t seem to notice.
“Please tell me there’s food.”
The woman smiled gently.
“Of course.”
The dining room looked like something preserved from another century but what threw me off was how every plate arriving at the table contained exactly what each one of wanted most.
Daniel stared at the whiskey poured beside his rare steak.
“This is the brand my dad used to drink.”
Ben actually laughed after tasting the coffee.
“No way. This tastes exactly like…”
“My grandmother’s pie recipe…” Mia said quietly, staring at the dessert placed before her. Nobody questioned it long. Normally we would have joked about it, asked questions, but instead relief settled over the table like a drug. Warm and comforting.
June smiled, really smiled. For the first time since the funeral.
The silver- blonde woman sat beside her through most of dinner. She never mentioned the urn. She only listened as June spoke about the accident, hospitals and the silence afterward.
She spoke about waking up every morning still expecting someone beside her and the pain and loneliness of being alone. June spoke more that night than she had in weeks.
The woman touched her hand gently at one point, and June looked at her the way starving people look at food.
Something tightened unpleasantly in my chest, the longer I stayed inside the hotel, the stranger I felt. Drained… Like something was pulling slowly at my body from the inside. My body grew heavier with every passing minute; even blinking started to feel difficult.
The others didn’t seem to notice, in fact, they looked calmer than they had in months. Ben leaned back in his chair half asleep and smiling. Mia laughed softly and Daniel kept murmuring about how comfortable the place felt.
June looked alive again and somehow that scared me most.
Eventually we were guided towards our rooms. The corridors twisted as we walked. Too many turns, hallways longer than the building should physically allow.
The carpet muffled every sound. We couldn’t hear any footsteps, creaking. There was nothing but distant music echoing faintly through the walls.
My room sat at the very end of a corridor lined with enormous windows overlooking the forest, there was no reflection in the glass. I stared for too long and for a brief second I thought I saw shapes moving between the trees.
