I dreamt the lobby had no doors and a man kept asking for a room that didn't exist

It's that slow hour before sunrise, the kind where the lobby smells like floor wax and someone else's insomnia. In the dream, there were no doors, just a long corridor of keys on hooks, and a guest kept asking for a room I knew wasn't in the book. I kept trying to apologise in the way you can't in real life — the way that carries the weight of every refusal I've ever had to make. Woke up with the feeling of an unclaimed key in my palm.