When I’d knocked on Carson’s door this morning, it had been swung open by a hotel employee with a clipboard and a camera. It had only taken a glance at the room to understand why. It looked like it’d been ransacked by raccoons with a taste for vodka, sausage pizza, and drywall. The drapes had been shredded, and there was broken glass on the bed. I had backed out quickly before they could ask any questions. During the free breakfast buffet in the lobby, I eliminated the name from my list. I hope I’d had a good time.
Sue Clayton
30/7/2023 03:59:52 am
Perhaps a memory best kept secret. Comments are closed.
|
"Classic"
|