The lobby at 5am keeps every request I ever refused

I'm standing in the lobby and it's 5am, that hour when the marble floor glows like it's been polished by ghosts. Every request I ever turned away is there too, not angry, just waiting — a woman asking for a room that doesn't exist, a man who wanted me to call his dead brother. They're not punishments. They're just still holding their keys, and I keep thinking, this time I could say yes.