Lukewarm at the Best WesternClay Matthews
We checked into the hotel fifteen blocks from our house because every so often even a slight change is enough to keep our hearts beating. The headboard screwed into the wall. The water-repellant comforter. And for three minutes I have a deep regret about spending forty dollars, as if somewhere in my mind I’d catalogued the money for a much nobler use. Who am I kidding? Myself, for starters. I’ve been kidding you for years now, and no one’s seemed to notice. And so we spend the evening drinking cheap beer out of a cheap box and lounging around the indoor pool area they locked up hours ago. Yes, we jumped the fence. Yes, we’re breaking the law. But if trying to salvage an existence is a crime, well, then, sue me. We are what we make of ourselves in idle time. Cheers to whoever said that. Though I think that maybe I’m missing the point, as I run back and forth from the pool to the hot tub, finding it hard to believe how quickly a body loses its temperature, how slowly it finds it again.
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