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POV — amber
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date: september 2nd, 1991
I ALWAYS hated mondays.
mondays had always caused me a lot of stress; the start of a new week, bills that had to be paid with the money my father and i didn't have, it seemed to always rain and it was the part of the week where most customers checked into the hotel. to say i hated running the place with my father was an understatement. we didn't care much for it anymore, as my father was preparing for his retirement, and i just didn't want to spend my life working in this run down hotel. i had my own dreams and aspirations that i wanted to work on. besides, we'd be selling to someone else soon, which was somewhat of a relief.
but, on this particular morning, part of me also didn't want to let go of the past.
"it's weird," dad picked up one of the picture frames in the cardboard box, inspecting it carefully. inside, a photograph of the pair of us, alongside my mother on a beach, probably in brighton, as far as my memory allowed me to recall, was inserted into the frame. he inserted the photograph into my hand, as nostalgia washed over me. "your mum used to adore this place. so did your nana."
"of course nana loved it," i smirked. "she named this place after her, for god's sake." that earned myself a chuckle from him, returning the photograph to its assigned box. he sighed and stared outside the window on his left.
"it's a shame we have to sell this place. they'd be heartbroken." i nodded in agreement, before bending down quickly and picking up the roll of tape beside the box, pushing down the flaps and sealing it shut. i breathed out a sigh and stood up, walking out of the storage room, as tears clouded my vision.
yes, as much as i hated to admit it, i was feeling rather unsettled about the whole situation. while i hated working there and how much it distracted me from band rehearsals most days, it gave me a great sense of nostalgia. villa rosie was a huge part of my life growing up. spending all my summer here with my grandparents and my mum and dad was a major part of my childhood. while the upper class in my school would be jetting off to the states and whatnot, i'd be driving ninety minutes across the country to that small hotel, where the friendly and familiar faces were. a small tear raced down my cheek, as i dried it with the cuff of the sleeve on my sweatshirt. dad, being the person who knew me best, noticed and hugged me from behind.
