There's people passing through the dark again.
A business traveler's reservation vanished into the aether.
This call is from a woman who spent the last twelve hours at the hospital.
A man needs to check out early. His father is dead.
We kill room access to a person who refuses to bring a new form of payment. He calls later, comes to the desk. His arms are covered in ink and all his cards decline, flips a large roll of cash at me. His knuckles are tattooed: S H I T.
A woman pushes a bell cart full of luggage. She wants to stretch. A man carries their sleeping child.
I stayed up today instead of trying to sleep. Won't make much difference either way, although the doctor gave me something for my back-shoulder-whole body.
Watched CNN for the first time in months. Oil spill. "Live" footage from BP.
Someone in the bar says, "Oil is natural, everything will be fine. Doesn't this happen naturally with tectonic movement anyway?" I picture my hair growing long, enough to fill the Gulf of Mexico and soak the growing bruise. The strands and curls clean the fish and birds. But this can't happen, and I have more gin.
I got a call for an interview this morning. I think I can hold down a second job. Friends say this is the "bad" branch, sometimes there's shit on the walls. This is no worse than finding The Shining in lobby elevators.
On the way home, my ankle twinges and a man walking ahead of me almost becomes part of a bus.
I am not sure what to say at this interview.