Aisle

The driver went to smoke. I formed the name on my lips: Alexandra Basin. To think it has a proper name. Using effort never spared in my French and geography classes, I committed the name to heart. I stepped out and asked the driver for a cigarette. He lit me one, and gave me advice: inhale, hold, exhale. Fresh air, tobacco, it was all the same: inhale, hold, exhale. I followed his example, and the head rush showed me a new certainty. I thanked the man, gave him my loose change and the rest of my cigarette, then went inside L’Appartement Hôtel — another wonderful name. But no name could stand against the blessed Alexandra Basin.

I went up to the suite, brushed my teeth, and tucked in with the others.