“Are you sure, señor, that that is where you want me to take you?” The water taxi driver asked before leaving the dock.
“Yes,” Michael said, squeezing his wife’s hand. “The Hotel Henry Berrisford. Why do you ask?”
“Well, señor,” the driver said, “that place is not in the best part of town.”
“Nonsense,” Michael responded. “The travel agent assured me that that hotel is the place to stay. We’re here on our second honeymoon.”
The driver pulled the water taxi up to the hotel’s pier. It was very clear to Michael that the hotel had seen better days.
Written for this week’s Friday Fictioneers prompt from Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Photo credit: JS Brand