The salesman stopped his old scooter outside the motel. It was 10 o'clock and the rain was hitting hard. The salesman pulled his bag and opened the door. He saw the same woman standing behind the counter. Her sharp eyes caught the light from the tubelight.

She was forty-five years old. Her hair was still wet from her bath. She wrapped her shawl around her neck. She was in her nightie. He had seen her every month when he came to Salem for the last year. She doesn't smile at him, but she is good at remembering things.