h1

Christ

August 19, 2009

The air smelled of sport cologne, marijuana, and the distinct lack of a home smell that hotel rooms always seem to have. The only light was from the news on the muted TV and light in the bathroom. The door was left open. He was laid back on the bed, hands laced behind his neck, elbows out revealing his pale and veiny yet muscular forearms. His ankles were crossed and his black suede sneakers dangled off the bed.
He was wearing convenience store sunglasses and a sticker was still on the bottom of the left lens. The television’s blue light flickered and silently illuminated the crimson machine-printed flower designs on the polyester comforter like the 20th century flames of a primitive fire. The black lenses reflected the screen perfectly as if they almost understood whatever was being said. He was alone though and the other bed closer to the window was empty.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: