Dani dropped onto a black couch while I walked to the desk.

The woman behind the counter typed into her computer. A moment later, she had found our reservation.

“Tomorrow.”

I sighed.

“Yes. We’re here a day early, but do you have room tonight?”

She shook her head, checked the computer again, then looked up.

“I have one room.”

She paused

“Deluxe.”

~

Our room sat at the end of a hallway that turned twice. White plaster walls rose toward arched ceilings.

Inside, the bed took up most of the room.

Dani walked to it and sat down. Then she reached for a Fanta.

She drank half the bottle, set it on the table, and crawled under the blankets.

I turned off the light.

The room went quiet.

~

I closed my eyes, but true sleep never came. Instead of rest, I dreamed, and in my dream, I stood on a beach.

Sand squished between my toes, and waves crashed in the background, but the sun hid behind clouds and bitter winds blew.

Sand Island. I recognized this place.

I’d ridden the mail-boat here during Dani’s and my first international trip five years ago.

Instead of sand, though, sticks covered its shores.

I picked up sticks one after another.

When the beach was clear, I looked up.

There were more.

I picked them up.

~

The outside world filtered in.

Someone slammed a door.

Another handful of sticks.

A buzzer sounded.

Another cigarette.

Another beach.

Snow crunched outside.

The beach froze beneath my feet.

When I could stand it no longer, I lurched awake—midnight.

Despite what felt like days passing in my dreams, only two hours had passed in the real world.

Sweat soaked my clothes, sheets, and mattress despite the frozen air.

I laid a towel over the sweat-soaked bed and closed my eyes.

I stood on an island.

~

Morning came gray through the curtains.

Dani was already awake.

She rolled toward me.

“I had the weirdest dream.

“Our hotel was historic. Like a museum.

“I was giving a tour, walking through the hallways, opening doors and looking into all the rooms.

“Everything inside was preserved.

“I’d open a door, look at all the old things inside, then move on to the next one.

“But the hallways never ended. Every corner led to another hallway with more doors.

“I just kept going.”

She stopped.

“Why are you staring at me?”

I pulled the blanket higher around my shoulders.

Outside, a car moved through the snow.

~

After breakfast, we started walking. The Kremlin walls soon appeared ahead.

A road split beside them.

Black sedans waited at one gate, their windows dark and their plates marked with government seals.

We followed the sidewalk toward the tourist entrance.

A greenbelt ran between the road and the walls.

There was no snow.

The trees were bare.

The river flowed without ice.

The temperature gauge on a tower read negative fifteen.

Dani pulled her coat tighter and vomited into the bushes.

She wiped her mouth.

“I’m fine.”

I put my hand on her forehead.

“You’re burning up.”

Her teeth clattered.

“Let’s keep going.”

~

Inside, the Kremlin held five cathedrals.

Dani found a bench.

“Leave me here.”

I went inside the first.

Dark walls.

Gold.

Painted faces looking down from every direction.

I read a few plaques, picked up my camera, and took some pictures, and came back out.

Dani stood.

“Next.”

The second cathedral was around the corner.

She walked toward it.

At the door, she stopped.

“This one.”

Her hand was already on the handle. She opened the door and looked through the opening.

“Go.”

We crossed the room.

Everything inside was preserved.

The icons.

The paintings.

The gold.

I picked up my camera.

Then she found another door.

She opened it and stepped through.

“Dani.”

She turned.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

She came back out and found another.

~

Outside, the sun had begun to drop.

Dani looked toward Red Square.

“We should keep going.”

I looked at her.

She reached for my hand.

“Come on.”

Somewhere beyond, our hotel was still waiting.

Moscow, Deluxe.