Home Sweet Home
Mira POV
"Welcome to Silverstone," a sign displayed in big, black, bold letters. After driving for what seems like forever, I finally decided on this quaint, little town. The further I drove into the city, that was to be my new home. It was a perfect fit for me. For now, at least. It was pretty much smaller than what I'm used to, but I'm not looking for luxury. I needed to hide out, and this was it; insignificant, undetectable.
I drove past a few houses that were surprisingly extremely spaced out. Vast, grassy fields and forest stretched across what seemed to be unclaimed land. Smells of pine filled my nostrils. I wasn't in Miami anymore. I drove down a winding road that led straight to the middle of town. The buildings were old and had a very rustic feel to it. Redbrick buildings lined either side of the streets, occupied by small businesses such as a bakery, a boutique, a pharmacy, and small restaurants here and there.
Further into town was a diner that seemed to host the majority of the townspeople. The parking lot was brimming with cars, and there weren't many on the road. A small convenience station occupied the area next to the diner, and I say convenience station because it was just that. The old-time, 'Fill 'er up' type of stations. Next to that was a garage. I kept driving until I saw the thing that I craved most sitting next to a small grocery store: a hot shower and a bed. I ignored the curious onlookers as I revved my 1972 dodge challenger into the motel parking lot. I parked right in front of the floor to ceiling glass windows. I could feel the townspeople's eyes bore into my flesh. I guess they didn't have visitors very often. I felt like a caged animal or more like a circus freak. I took a deep breath and cut my engine.
I approached the desk just as the motel clerk greeted me with a smile. She was a pretty girl with olive skin and long eyelashes that brought out her golden-brown eye. She was in her early twenties, maybe. Her blonde hair hung around her shoulders in a cascade of curls. She was thin but not frail. Her work uniform consisted of a coffee-stained white button-up blouse and black slacks. Her name tag read Kayla.
"Hi. How may I help you?" She inquired. She studied me with a curious eye.
"I need a room. I only have cash. Will that be a problem?" I kept a blank expression and a flat tone.
"No ma'am, no problem at all." I can sense the southern twang in her voice that she was trying to hide but failing to do so. She begins to type on the computer again. "So how long will you be staying with us? I have to admit. We don't get too many visitors here. Folks say it's too boring around here."
Another slip: folks.
"I like boring," I say in a flat, indifferent tone. "I will be staying until I can find an apartment or house of my own. How about we say a couple of weeks, and if anything changes, I will let you know."
"Yes, ma'am. I'm Kayla, by the way. I guess I'm your welcoming committee," she replied with a sincere smile.
"Well, besides the people gawking as I came through town, I guess you are," I chuckled. "And no more of this ma'am stuff. You can call me Mira.
"It's nice to meet you, Mira. Where are you blowing in this town from?" She asked as she typed on the computer and handed me some papers to fill out.
"Around. I'm just doing some traveling," I answered vaguely. I handed Kayla back the papers containing the information I claimed as my own.
"It's good to have you." I guess she took the hint that I wasn't very friendly. She didn't press me for more information. She typed on the computer some more and soon handed me my motel key card with the hotel room number on it. I was just happy they weren't keen on identification verification.
"Enjoy your stay and if you need anything at all, just let me know, and I will assist you as best I can."
I nodded my thanks and exited the office to find my room. I got in my car and went in searched for my home for the next couple of weeks. I found my place in the back of the hotel. I silently thanked Kayla. I needed privacy.
I got out of my car and took a look around to make sure there were no nosy townspeople close lurking. I grabbed the two duffel bags that contained what I had left of my possessions. I took them to the door of my room and took one last look around before opening it.
Once inside, I put the duffel bags on top of the queen-sized bed. I assessed the small white, bland room decorated with awful floral bedding and drapes. I thought it was best to close those. There was a television, microwave, and a mini-fridge. The stockpiled bathroom hosted a shower.
I walked back to the bed and opened the two jampacked duffel bags stuffed with my clothes, shoes, and jewelry. The other held my weapons and money. And my God, it was a lot of money.
Before I get ahead of myself, let me explain as I scrub the dirt that built from the long trip off of my body.
