i wake up to a musty, but clean smell of a hotel room.
a car horn sounds outside.
the door creaks, settling after being opened recently.
a man coughs and slams doors out in the hallway.
the cheap digital alarm clock reads 10:08 PM in green numerals.
next to it sits a bottle of half-consumed Gatorade.
it looks like blood.
there's a ringing in my ears, and i have the putrid taste of salt on my tongue.
my heart feels as if it's going to burst at any moment.
there are prints of Monet paintings on the wall.
i find them classy, but ordinary.
a very large plastic smoke detector mocks me with its green light.
sometimes it winks at me with a red light.
i want to smash it with a claw hammer.
an attractive young girl with glasses and brown hair works in the hall sometimes, folding sheets and cleaning toilets.
i think her name is Melissa.
there are three lamps in my room, and a television that is seldom turned on.
it might be fun to see how many pieces it becomes on the parking lot below.
i have a