The door creaked open and I stepped into the warmth of the refuge. We passed a lounge full of trekkers, reclining in their ski jackets and cracking wise. Pausing for a second, I gawked at them through the glass, my face contorted from the climb. Fragrant aromas wafted from enormous tagine pots that were spaced evenly along a cafeteria bench.
Continuing to the main lobby, Robert and I approached the reception desk and booked bunks for the night.
“Is there any food left?” I said.
The desk clerk continued counting the wad of bank notes I had handed him. He turned and placed them in the till, then pointed to the room opposite. “This is last service.”
The warmth I had felt coming in from the outdoors had now faded, and I began to shiver as I sat down at the empty dining table. Two grimy men were…
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