I couldn't tell much about the view because the heavy curtains were shut, but as far as I could see, there was nothing special about the room.
It had the normal dark entry hall, a small, slightly raised sitting parlor, and a bedroom. The carpet in the bedroom was worn in spots. There were two narrow beds, each covered by a shiny red silk quilt with a circle of flowers embroidered in the center. The short, square lamp on the table between the beds was new, as was the white phone that shared the space. A TV sat against the wall, facing a chair near the window.
The bathroom had been renovated recently; it was one of those modular bathrooms with a low ceiling that makes you think you're in a fiberglass space ship. I never liked fiberglass. It doesn't grow anywhere.
When they were first installed, the bathrooms must have been considered modern and efficient, but they didn't wear very well, especially since hotel guests aren't all that careful. The shine rubbed off, and then the color went flat. They couldn't be painted, so the only thing to do was to replace the whole module. Usually the fixtures got broken in the process, so that meant replacing them as well. This one had a new sink-nothing fancy, but gleaming, like new sinks do. It didn't look like it had been used more than once or twice. The thin towels weren't new and didn't match, but they were clean, folded precisely, and hanging neatly from the towel bar. There was a phone over the toilet. Why anyone needed a phone in the bathroom, I never understood.
The sitting room had a couch that could hold two people if they A