She turns down the lights before leaving. I close my eyes and fall asleep before the door closes and the locks thump.
I dream of a smoke filled hallway.
People cough and stumble through it to the stairwell. I can see and breathe easy because I am wearing firefighting gear. I'm not a firefighter.
I walk against the flow of people, checking rooms for stranglers, guiding them to the stairs. No one in the hotel is supposed to die tonight. Except for one man.
I see him. Half his face is behind a wet towel and he's crouched down low, his free hand following the wall to the stairs.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
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