My home is a hotel

He wandered like a lost soul, and there was no place he felt at home. Condemning himself to wandering, he would stop at roadside hotels. In the hotel café, he chose a table by the window and ordered the same thing - a hot dog with mustard sauce. He got tired and went to bed. At night he woke up to the static of the television. He coughed and tried to get back to sleep. The cold permeated the whole hotel room. In the morning, a maid in a dusty pink apron knocked on the guests' doors. A thick mist enveloped the hotel.