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Pond was silent as he took in the place. Glancing once more at his Hawaiian shirt and Crocs, I followed Betta to the desk. Pictures of island excursions lined the tiled wall. Having confirmed three nights in our $9 room, we thanked Pond for the ride. “No problem,” he replied slowly before returning to his grey Toyota Tacoma. Waving goodbye, we watched as his truck turned at the 7-11 down the road, to return to the school. Our only contact in Koh Lanta was gone. The click of the wheels of my suitcase echoed through the hallway as we followed the receptionist to our room. Expecting to be led up the stairs, where other guests had rooms, we were led outback. To our left was a pool, and to the right, a swamp over which rows of bamboo-legged bungalows floated. Ominously, the structures stood, isolated from the hotel and fenced away from the promised beach. We accepted our key from the receptionist and felt the bungalow rattle as we closed the door behind us. I investigated our space as Betta went to the bathroom. The handle giggled in-and-out as I attempted to lock the door. A sign warned me that I would be charged for any damages to the room. Betta left the bathroom with concerns of her own: a swarm of spiders and the ceiling hole from which they presumably crawled. Considering what other creatures could shimmy from the gaping hole, we decided to keep the bathroom door shut. We laid down to rest after our week of teaching. Inhaling the mold and dust, we fell asleep as light peeked in through damaged blinds. We woke to loud tapping, clattering sounds over our heads. “What is that?” “People upstairs?” “There’s no upstairs! It’s a crawlspace!” “Is it a lizard?” “A monkey?” “A lizard-monkey?” Afraid to move, we nervously laughed, staring at the ceiling. Remembering the hole, I got up to ensure the bathroom door was shut in place. Click-Clack, the creature continued. “Maybe we should switch rooms?” “Or leave?” I pulled out my phone to check the reviews. “Maybe there’s advice on how to get rid of the creature,” I said to Betta. “Like feeding it?” Click-Clack. Our frugality had brought us to many places: riding tourist bikes (no proper brakes) down steep hills, nearly being killed by a chicken, and hallucinating as a result of sleep, food, and hydration deprivation. This, however, was the first ceiling creature. Click-Clack. “Bugs in bed, and bites all over,” I read, and we leapt out of the bed to pace around the room. “Don’t stay here, a lot of thieves.” Click-Clack. “Ants were everywhere” Click-Clack. “They charged us for previous damages.” Click-Clack. We began collecting what few things we unpacked, and whatever was clicking and clacking above us sped up. Turning the jiggly handle on the unlocked door, we resisted the urge to sprint, settling into a jog instead. I followed closely behind Betta, hoping she would do the talking. “Hi,” Betta told the receptionist, who looked up, annoyed, from her phone. “We have to go, here is the key back. Sorry.” Now looking confused, the receptionist moved her phone away from her face. “You have not even been here for two hours. Did you break something?” Remembering the warning signs in the room and the online reviews, I told her no. “We just have to get back to the school,” Betta lied. “You won’t get back your deposit,” she said firmly. “That’s okay,” we assured her. The $10 no longer mattered. The anxious clack of my suitcase hitting the pavement accompanied us on our way out.