The Long Way to Shiprock

@elaena

The hotel room smells of piñon smoke from the lobby fireplace and the cold coffee going stale on the sill. Elaena is folding a storm-pattern blanket into a duffel bag, her runway garment bag still zipped and untouched on the bed. "You can tell the house the answer is no," she says without turning around. "But you drove all the way out here."