August 19, 2018 (Sunday) 6:03 PM Cardeal Hotel, 40th floor
Angelo strode across the golden onyx tiles glimmering like a lighted stage. It shone spectrums of earth stones and heaven tactile.
Reaching the contemporary reception counter, a woman elegantly and professionally stood behind with her sleek long black hair. Looking at the woman feels like staring at a kaleidoscope with each angled pattern drawing ethereality. Her pale complexion beautifully contrasted her dark uniform, adorned with fiery crimson streaks tracing her womanly figure. A metallic name tag is pinned on her uniform placed leftward from her chest. Mair, the woman's name.
Angelo cleared his throat, dried from the woman's obsidian eye core. It sucked his senses aligned along reason. "Is Mr. Paul Alejandro here?" He inquired respectfully despite his colloquial gazes.
A genuinely humble smile was reaped on her lips. "Good evening! Welcome to Cardeal Hotel. You are… Mr. Angelo, I believe?"
Angelo nodded. "Yep, that's me."
"Please wait over the queue area for a while, sir," Her tongue spun words of politeness. "I'll be calling for Mr. Paul Alejandro, the hotel proprietor."
His eyebrows knitted out of bewilderment. "He's the owner of this Cardeal Hotel?"
"You're not informed, sir?"
"Uh… I-I am, but…" He stuttered as retrospect of their conversation return to him. The woman's heels clicked against the glittering tile as she slowly swerved from behind the counter to a room.
Angelo sat on a reclined metal chair in the queue area.
The hotel gleamed elegantly with all its color patterns, an ambit of mastered craft with diverse turns, twists, and corridors from behind. The starting point of a meticulously engineered mazes.
From a distant foyer, he saw the incoming female receptionist who accommodated him with a man striding along from behind her. It must be Mr. Paul Alejandro, Angelo thought, so he stood up.
A rising skepticism springs externally from his rapid beating heart. He walked and met them halfway. The man's posture emanated maturity out of an enduring age. Few white hairs peek through his dyed ebony hair, his skin wrinkled to a soft elasticity, and his knowing eyes were pair of drilled sables.
"Good evening, Mr. Angelo," Paul Alejandro offered his hand to the teenager. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'd like to extend my gratitude for openly accepting my offer."
"Likewise," Angelo received the man's hand, trying his best to equal his maturity and professionalism. "I hope… this is a real deal, though."
"This truly is, young man. Shall we begin by leading you to your unit room?"
The female receptionist, Mair, returned to her station. Paul led the young boy, Angelo, to a dark hallway, almost like a deep tunnel with a perpetual crow blackness. After a few more turns throughout the wrenched edifice, he began to marvel the wondrous labyrinth.
"I believe you've already read the rules and regulations I have for this hotel. I've sent the guidelines via email," Paul's masculine voice echoed in his ears, a spiking, yet quiet thunder. "Shall I remind you, Mr. Angelo?"
"No, you don't need to," He replied. "But I have a question. What's with the strange rule I read from the last part of the agreement? It's not that I mind, though."
"What strange rule are you talking about?" Paul feigned ignorance.
Angelo gave into his taunting pretend act. "It stated that no one's allowed to go out of the Cardeal Hotel aside from two chosen guests."
Paul halted in front of a room. A soft glow of a marmalade orange was emitted from kerosene lamps and a few fluorescents. "I'd like to keep its purpose extremely confidential, Mr. Angelo. Anyway, just like you've said earlier, you don't mind, correct? It's not like you have anything left, because that's the primary reason you accepted my offer. It was ideal for your situation, not thinking radically whether this was a hoax or not."
Paul's words struck him like sharpened darts, feeling similarly to a target board, full of imperfect and inconsistent scores. He truly was searching for a gasp of air, feeling suffocated from the hellfire sea he's drowning upon.
"I do sincerely hope that you enjoy your stay in my hotel, Mr. Angelo," Paul Alejandro added, a hint of contempt. He handed over the keys to the young man. "I'll be leaving for now."
Silence conquered the vintage air when Paul Alejandro left to stride all over the labyrinth once more. Angelo unlocked the door and entered upon what he treats as a threshold of hope. The last blink of the light he clung unto.
He plodded tiredly and traced his fingers along the glass wall which offered a spectacular overview from above, down to the busy, lighted city. Minus the honking vehicles and blaring dissonances, the world looked symmetrically beautiful.
He rested himself on the bed for a while.
Angelo opened the cabinet and saw that his things were really delivered here. It was astonishing.
He was actually hoping at the back of his mind that all of these are fraud. A dupery by a fervent conman to strip him off possessions and… reasons to live.
He grabbed an ivory white box, his temporary salvation for his dying sanity.
Picking out a random cigarette stick, the lighter gave life to the nicotine poison to consume his collapsing lungs. Something he needn't to care at all. He breathed heavily, a roundabout pulsation vexes his brain. Intoxicated with anxiety, manifestations began letting loose.
A hell he's struggling to hold off.
"Solitude," He whispered to himself, the smokes drowning his organ. "I really hate… solitude."
He tightly pressed the cigarette stick against the glossy ceramic black ashtray.
He grabbed his laptop and opened the online dating chat rooms he worked hard to get into. He's been doing these kind of things since that day.
You are currently talking to a stranger. The digital screen flash against his accustomed eyes, a pair of deadlock holes.
You: Hi!
Stranger: I fucking hate life! Damn it!
This is new. The stranger would usually ask for his name, age, sex, and location. People don't usually go straight to the pits of their hated insights.
You: Whoa, what's going on?
Stranger: I really hate my life! I just wanted to fall in love! I just wanted to love him!
Obviously a woman, Angelo thought. Curiosity was banging his heart, a restless knock of peculiarity.
You: You couldn't?
Stranger: I'm disgusted of myself.
You: Why?
You: What's wrong?
Stranger: I just knew that I was dating my own brother.
Stranger: I swear! I didn't know he was my brother! Neither does him! We even had sex, wtf!
The stranger had been disconnected.
Connecting to a server…
After a few more attempts, Angelo found a girl who's dormant over sex topics. The female seemed uninterested to what others are looking for in these kinds of chat room.
You: Do you want to meet up?
Stranger: hmm…
Stranger: Sure.
You: I can only go out starting 7pm. Wait for me at the Ly Café.
Stranger: 7? Not sure about the time…
You: I'll wait.
Stranger: I'm not sure anymore, but I'll try. I'll text you.
You: Should I give my contact number?
Stranger: Yes! Thanks, stranger.
You: I'll be waiting for you, stranger.
After enduring a few minutes, stretched out by his impatience, the clock finally struck 7:00 PM.
He dashed across the mesmerizing labyrinth and reached the reception hall. The female receptionist cued a small nod with a respectful smile as he exits the hotel.