“cheap-a$$ hotel room in michigan” by the Doodler
I wake up like a gunshot. There’s no hint of lingering drowsiness or dream’s feather-light intoxication. Just reality, as sharp-edged and dreary as ever. The room is just this side of cold, and smells faintly of something unpleasant. It’s dark outside, and I can see the glow of cheap lighting reflected off the wall outside my window. I fumble with the lights for a minute, and then slip out of bed. There isn’t even a TV in here. I rake my hands through my hair and make for the bathroom.
It is every bit as unappetising as the rest of the suite, of course. There’s a dirty sink beneath a dirty mirror, but when I turn the faucet, clean, cold water gushes out. I splash a handful into my face, and look into the mirror.
There I am, looking straight back at me.
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It’s strangely reassuring to see that I’m still…