When my eyes crack open, the world is black and empty. Maybe I’m not awake after all. Maybe I’m dead. But as I turn my head, something cool and soft glides across my cheek. Satiny sheets. They’re over me and under me, and my head is cushioned by a fat, fluffy pillow. The green numbers on the digital clock next to my bed read 11:51. I’ve woken up plenty and not known where I was, but as the hotel room comes back to me, I realize I’ve done it two mornings in a row. The blackness from the heavy curtains doesn’t help. My arm is numb. It’s an improvement over...