Rejection hung from Ray like a smelly coat when he arrived at the Hotel of Lost Thoughts, last resort for the creatively bankrupt. His suitcase held only crumpled rejection slips and a half-finished manuscript. He would trade his soul for a spark of inspiration or die trying.
The concierge offered him the Writer’s Suite, where the walls bled ink and whispered plot twists. A single mint awaited him on his pillow, with a note: Eat Me. A new beginning or just another dead end? Holding the mint, Ray sank down, ready to surrender to whatever fate had in store.