The Hotel

“Hello there, friends! My name is John, I’m the hotel manager. What can I do for you today?”

This is how I began every meeting in my life for the last seventeen years, the only variation being whether or not I pluralize ‘friend.’ The guests always come shambling in with their bags in tow, each of them drowning in their miseries. Sure, some came with families and were nothing but smiles, but I knew the truth. It was all a facade, a mask. Their true faces would be revealed in time, of that I was certain. How could I be so sure, you ask? Well, the answer is simple.

Because I’m going to rip that mask from their faces and tear it to shreds.

Cruel? Perhaps. I’ve heard that word before and it may be applicable. But if that is cruel, then that is the kind of man I am. The only mask I wear is this one, right here in the lobby. I meet and greet with an absurb amount of politeness, all in the name of good manners and sociability. These men and women, however, never seem to show their true selves, constantly hiding in plain sight, long-since overcome with the fear or rejection.

I am here to remedy that. I will tear down that wall and let the world see the real you. Your fear will become evident, palpable. Your vulnerabilities will burst forth and control you. And when it’s all over, the world will judge you for it.

And you know what? They’ll love you for it. Every person that meets the real you will be caught in a trance, amazed at your level of openness, wishing they could be more like you.

“I wasn’t always like this,” you’ll say. “No, it was the Hotel Champaign de Fleur. Something happened there…”

They’ll come to me then. They’ll come in droves, flocking to my humble abode and filling my rooms with their expectations, all without knowing what it is they’re even waiting for. But I will show them, in time. I will give them everything they never knew they wanted and more.

And though the world may love you for it after I’m done, you will undoubtedly, undeniably, unequivocally hate me.