Two nights ago night, I tried to book a stay.
Not just any stay. The one.
The kind that gives you a feeling before it even gives you an address.
But as I went to book it, my phone froze. Three separate times.
Not metaphorically. Literally.
The universe had a buffering symbol.
Yesterday morning, I got a call.
Georgia was on the line.
Yes, Georgia Bell.
Like the song: Until I Found You.
And yes, she’s a runner, she’s a track star, catch her at the 2024 Olympics if you’re quick.
Georgia let me know that the unit I somehow booked was only available for 21-day stays or longer.
A glitch.
A digital loophole.
A crack in the system I had stumbled into.
But instead of brushing me off, Georgia offered me something else:
The Beehive.
She had seen my booking.
She had felt the mix-up.
She had read the moment better than most do.
Turns out, I had seen The Beehive last night too. But I didn’t book it.
Funny how things return when they’re meant for you.
Georgia offered me the unit — closer to the city, better location — and gave me a $100 discount before I could ask.
Then, she passed the call to her manager, Kim.
Kim didn’t try to sell me. She just… told me about The Beehive.
The name says it all.
Warm.
Buzzing.
A small place alive with meaning.
It took three tries to process the payment again.
(Three again — there’s something in that.)
I messaged Layla to let her know: my bank thought it was fraud.
That’s what love looks like sometimes, doesn’t it?
A false flag, mistaken for something dangerous… when it’s actually the most real thing of all.
Georgia called back after rebooting the system.
We tried again.
This time, it worked.
Paid. Complete. Done.
She asked if the stay was for one or two.
“Just me,” I said.
A moment later, I got this:
“Looking for a 1 bedroom holiday getaway in York?
Look no further — you’ve arrived at The Beehive.
A charming and cozy place to stay.
Perfect for singles… or as a romantic couple’s getaway.”
Then the booking confirmation came in.
Two guests.
Not one.
I didn’t correct it.
And as I sat with that, a sparrow flew straight into my window.
Tapped it —
then soared off into the sky.
A sign? A glitch? A messenger?
Who knows.
But I’m going to The Beehive.
Just me.
For now.