A SEAT AT THE TABLE
ALM 92, August 2026
SHORT STORIES
Some dreams cost more than money. Sometimes they cost your humanity.
Maria pushed her housekeeping cart down the hotel hallway as fast as she could. The soft carpet made it hard to hear anything except the piano music coming from the ballroom downstairs.
The Whitmore Hotel was the nicest place she had ever seen. Huge crystal chandeliers hung from the ceilings, expensive paintings covered the walls, and every corner smelled like fresh flowers and expensive perfume.
Six months ago, Maria moved from Mexico to the United States because she wanted a better life. She knew she had to start somewhere.
"Room 1812 needs extra towels before the private dinner starts," her manager said.
Maria grabbed the towels and knocked on the door.
"Come in," a voice answered. Inside, Richard Whitmore stood by the window looking down at the city lights. His family owned the hotel, and everyone treated him like he was famous. "Maria, right?" he asked with a smile.
She nodded, surprised he remembered her name.
"You're always working," he said. "One day you'll be the one staying in places like this."
Maria laughed quietly.
"I hope so."
Richard handed her a large tip. "You deserve it."
As Maria cleaned the room, she noticed a black keycard on the desk with a silver W on it. "What's that for?" she asked.
"Private events," Richard said. "Only special guests are invited."
For the rest of her shift, she couldn't stop thinking about those words. Only special guests.
Later that night, the hotel became busier. Men in expensive suits and women wearing sparkling jewelry walked toward the ballroom carrying glasses of red wine.
As Maria pushed her cart past the kitchen, she noticed a strange smell underneath the garlic and butter. It smelled metallic, almost like blood.
Two cooks rushed past her carrying silver trays.
"Make sure table six gets the reserve cut," one of them said.
Maria frowned but kept walking. A few minutes later, she saw the private elevator open. Richard's keycard sat forgotten on a nearby counter. She looked around the empty hallway. Just one quick look, she thought. Her hands shook as she used the card. The elevator opened onto the top floor. At the end of the hallway, she saw large wooden doors that were slightly open. Inside, guests sat around a long table covered with candles and crystal glasses. Maria's eyes moved to the menu sitting beside an empty chair.
Tonight's Special: Long Pig Reserve.
Her stomach dropped. She remembered hearing that phrase years ago. Long pig meant human meat. Suddenly, the strange smell made sense. Maria stepped backward, but someone spoke behind her.
"You weren't supposed to find out this way." It was Richard. His smile was calm, almost kind.
"This is crazy," Maria whispered. "I'm calling the police."
A few guests turned toward her. An older man laughed softly. "She's cute."
A woman wearing a diamond necklace looked Maria up and down. "Richard, really?" she asked. "A housekeeper?"
Another man swirled the wine in his glass. "I guess everyone has a type."
The table laughed quietly.
Maria felt her face burn.
Richard stayed calm. "That's enough."
The room went silent.
He turned back to Maria. "I know why you came here," he said. "You want a better life. You want money, security, and a future."
Maria thought about her tiny apartment and the bills stacked on her kitchen table. She thought about the money she sent home every month and how hard she worked just to survive.
Richard held out his hand. "You can spend the rest of your life cleaning up after people like us," he said. "Or you can join us."
The woman with the diamond necklace raised an eyebrow. "Do you really think she'll fit in?"
Richard smiled. "Everyone adapts."
The guests laughed again.
Maria looked around the room. For a moment, she hated them. But she also saw the things she had always wanted: beautiful clothes, expensive jewelry, and the chance to never worry about money again. Everything she had dreamed about was sitting at this table.
After a long silence, Maria took Richard's hand. The laughter stopped.
Richard led her to an empty chair beside him. A waiter poured red wine into her crystal glass.
The woman with the diamond necklace smirked. "Welcome to the family."
Maria lifted her glass. Around her, crystal sparkled beneath the candlelight as silver serving trays were carried toward the table. For the first time since coming to America, she felt like she finally belonged. Then she took her seat.
Gina Kafie is drawn to creativity in all of its forms. She’s a musician, writer, thespian, and massive animal lover.
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