the faded red checked carpet of the hotel swan once resembled a runway of mopped blood. now the years of shuffling feet had drained it of colour and robbed it of any ability of soften the blows of each passing movement along its tired lengths. the brown stained panels only darkened the route from lobby to door. once inside any given room the netting curtains refracted the light into migraines. i looked across the bed towards her, a wet towel folded neatly across her brow. she matched the tune on the radio with a soft humming and toyed her fingers just above the bedside rug as if it were a sunwarmed stream, enticing something to surface. in the next room i heard a man cough, somewhere deep inside his chest the spasm of time waiting break free.
the faded red checked carpet of the hotel swan once resembled a runway of mopped blood. now the years of shuffling feet had drained it of colour and robbed it of any ability of soften the blows of each passing movement along its tired lengths. the brown stained panels only darkened the route from lobby to door. once inside any given room the netting curtains refracted the light into migraines. i looked across the bed towards her, a wet towel folded neatly across her brow. she matched the tune on the radio with a soft humming and toyed her fingers just above the bedside rug as if it were a sunwarmed stream, enticing something to surface. in the next room i heard a man cough, somewhere deep inside his chest the spasm of time waiting break free.
the faded red checked carpet of the hotel swan once resembled a runway of mopped blood. now the years of shuffling feet had drained it of colour and robbed it of any ability of soften the blows of each passing movement along its tired lengths. the brown stained panels only darkened the route from lobby to door. once inside any given room the netting curtains refracted the light into migraines. i looked across the bed towards her, a wet towel folded neatly across her brow. she matched the tune on the radio with a soft humming and toyed her fingers just above the bedside rug as if it were a sunwarmed stream, enticing something to surface. in the next room i heard a man cough, somewhere deep inside his chest the spasm of time waiting break free. |
