In a perfect world, Maya wouldn't be here. In a perfect world, she wouldn't have to be. It didn't look familiar, but this was definitely the address from the envelope. She passed through the revolving door with her arms hugged tight around her. In the swanky hotel lobby Maya pulled down the visor of her ball-cap. No way. This couldn't be right.
More steps, trying to get out of the way of people coming and going. Her eyes searched. For what? For whom?
Seeing a uniformed waiter heading her way, she ducked behind a wide pillar, only to crash into the ashtray stand behind it, knocking them both into a clanking, clattering, dusty pile on the polished marble floor.
A trio of hotel staff materialized in an instant. So much for keeping a low profile.
"Are you all right, Miss?"
"I'm fine, I'm fine," she answered, keeping her head down.
One man uniformed as domestic staff had already righted the ash tray and was working to sweep up the mess. The one speaking reached down a hand to help Maya up. Once she was vertical, he offered a small clothes-brush for her to dust herself off.
The third man, with the most impressive uniform, supervised. As Maya returned the clothes brush with a grateful smile, she heard a sharp intake of breath from the supervisor.
He lifted her cap off her head. "No. Maya? My Maya?"
It wasn't how she had wanted to meet her father.
It's FICTION FRIDAY!
Every Almost every Friday I write a new flash fiction piece. If you have a writing prompt you'd like to see turned into a story, just leave it in a comment. Today's story came from a 15 minute fiction sprint during the writing group I attend most Mondays.