the reservation

by nick nelson

can i help you, sir? yes, my name is kenneth charleston, and i reserved room 308 for a week beginning today, march 23. thank you, sir. the desk clerk, whose name plate identified him as garth, consulted a screen in the surface of the desk. i am afraid i do not have any record of that. sir. do you have something on your phone to verify your reservation? the man calling himself kenneth charleston reached into his pocket. no, it seems i must have lost my phone. do you have some i d? with that, i might be able to help you. the man calling himself kenneth charleston searched through all his pockets. no, i must have lost my wallet, and the i d in it, too. then i am afraid i can not help you, sir. i understand. kenneth charleston”. turned and crossed the lobby and went out into the street. garth watched him, relieved that he had not caused a scene. garth also noticed that “kenneth charleston” was not carrying any luggage. it was a bright day outside and the streets of the large metropolis were filled with happy looking and determined looking people. the man calling himself kenneth charleston had never been in the city before, and did not know anybody in it. nor was anybody expecting him. he walked through the streets. the streets did not seem to have signs, and the buildings he passed had no numbers. the streets seemed alternately thronged and deserted. he walked down a particularly narrow deserted street and came to a park. beyond the park was a steep hill, which he did not feel like climbing. he turned back and tried to retrace his steps, but none of the streets looked familiar. he had two dollars and twenty-three cents in change in his pockets. enough for a cup of coffee? although he had no wallet or i d or phone, he did have a small pocket calculator which he consulted. it read - 1,789, 633. it was the i, 789, 633rd time he found himself lost in a strange city where nobody knew him. when would he ever learn?