One time I had just come back from Stars strip club a few miles south on OBT, where there was an angry manager who dressed like he was going to a wedding. I will get to him again later. I saw the blonde girl walking out to the street. This was my chance to see her face. I parked in the gyro place next door, and came walking up the sidewalk back toward the motel to pass her going the other way. She was wearing a soft jacket with a big collar, sweat pants, and uggs, all white. As always, she turned away right before I saw her face. But this time, just as she started back into the motel, she turned and looked at me for a single second. I will never forget seeing her face. It was somehow not what I expected. There was something about it I couldn't put my finger on. In that short time, it did not strike me as pretty or ugly. I couldn't tell if she was 12 or 25. It was like a child with the placid indifference of an adult. She was as pale as a cloud, and there was a blank sadness and calm, like a child who was 100 years old and never left the house or even watched TV. I was friends with Jerome, the black guy who worked the night shift on the front desk. Sometimes I would drive him home, north up OBT, near Apopka. He seemed to know the group in the red sedan, and that is why they came to the Orange Inn. I overheard him say something like “I don’t want to have sex with the little white girl. So what if she is a prostitute, I don’t care.” In the Fall of 2013, I was in Miami. I went to McDonalds on 36th and Biscayne, and saw two teenage girls run across the street from the Wishes Motel. One was dark and one was light. The taller dark one was okay, and the light one was pretty. I talked to her for a bit, and she would have given me her number if I asked. I often wondered why I didn't. Later that day, I looked for their ad on backpage.com, and found nothing. I told my friend about the two teenage sluts from the Wishes Motel, and how some guys are going to get very lucky tonight. He was in a hurry between Saturday-night dates with two different girls. It was his usual pattern, an early one on a first date, and a late one on a second date. I wondered why am I the way I am? Why do I sit in front of a computer all day, where other guys would be having fun hanging out, with the two out-of—town girls from the Wishes Motel?