Hotel Room

The water off the harbor was the blue that the cinema would be jealous of. From the room he could barely see it, but he had a full view of the pool. The pool was a dull chemical blue that made him imagine a mutant-heroes back-story. Strategically placed palm trees helped to block the view of the parking lot – and the marina behind it. He looked out the window at the trees and the delivery trucks. The marina was packed with boats that cost more than he expected to make in his lifetime.

He sat in the chair that was next to the window and the tiny balcony. The chair matched the curtain, which matched the carpet, which matched the lamps, which matched the desk chair. His face was turned toward the sun, but his eyes had stopped seeing the goings-on outside. His mind had gone inward. He didn’t notice the people sitting around the pool with no intention of getting wet –sitting around talking themselves up, dropping big names and experiences to make themselves sound great to themselves. They didn’t listen then respond. They listened only waiting for their turn to talk.

He didn’t notice that his hands slowly twitched, slowly flexed and gripped. Every so often his breath stopped. His chest would pause, and then would resume as if nothing had happened. The thunder of a plane taking off woke him from his mind. He blinked, bringing the room into focus. He looked from the room down to the pool and out to the marina. He let out a sigh, numbed by the thickness and discomfort in the air around him.

He stood, stretched with a groan, and went for the shower. As he bathed he decided that after drying and dressing he would pack his suitcase back up, load up his car, check out of the room, leave and never return. He didn’t know where his home was, but he knew this wasn’t it. Besides, he thought, I want to be somewhere that the leaves change color.