Where there should have been clean lines and neutral décor, there were stacks—dozens upon dozens—of tiny shampoo bottles and neatly wrapped bars of soap. They lined the walls in careful rows, arranged by size and brand, some bundled in towels, others sorted into improvised categories. It looked less like a guest room and more like a meticulously organized supply depot.
For a brief, disorienting moment, Lina wondered if she had opened the wrong door.
One of them caught Lina’s expression and laughed softly. Not embarrassed. Not defensive. Just amused.
“We probably should have warned you,” she said gently.
The other woman nodded. “We always forget how it looks to someone seeing it for the first time.”
Lina stood frozen, her mind racing through policies, inventory counts, and imagined explanations she might have to give. Before she could speak, the first woman gestured around the room. Continue reading…
