CASH
Maria Lazo Haslam Maria Lazo Haslam

CASH

I took a deep breath as I opened the wooden door to the hotel. “Please let them be nice,” I thought to myself. I eased my way into the quaint lobby, and a young, slender man smiled at me. “May I help you?” “Yes, I have a reservation,” I responded, “under Macik.” That last name still stings when I speak it out loud.

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