In the downpour, I almost passed the Camp Knox motel. It didn’t look encouraging, but I didn’t have much choice. I couldn’t go back; they’d kill me. The office manager looked up from her tabloid when she saw me dripping all over the floor.
“Please tell me you have a room available.”
The Cheshire cat’s grin hung low in the sky, mocking me furiously. I didn’t know why and wasn’t sure I could – or even wanted to find out. I mean, I hadn’t done anything to earn that particular grin, but there it was.
I sat on the porch until I was nearly frozen, staring and wondering. The grin was silent, keeping its answers close. When I finally went back inside, my husband looked at me with curiosity and asked, “What’s so funny?”