On a cool autumn evening, the Royal Beacon Hotel buzzed with elegance. Marissa, the young receptionist, prided herself on maintaining the elite ambiance and believed she could spot the ‘right’ guests.
Near midnight, a tall Black man in a hoodie and jeans entered, his face kind but tired.
“Good evening, I’d like a room for the night,” he said, offering his credit card. Despite,
plenty of availability, Marissa lied, claiming the hotel was fully booked. Moments later, she warmly welcomed a well-dressed couple and handed them a room key.
