Cement and Stone

Posted: December 13, 2012 in Uncategorized

Her voice was hoarse, her muscles aching with the normal wear of age and infrequent use, made double by the early stages of influenza. With a groan meant to elicit sympathy but made silently enough so that nobody but herself could hear it, she pressed the key into the tiny slot, twisted it, and filled her nose with the smell of room unused for almost a week: she was finally home. The air was stale, with faint traces of garbage that needed to be taken out, a litter box that needed changing, and just general settled particles, but nothing could be better. She slammed the door behind her, dropped her luggage in her makeshift vestibule, trudged with difficulty up to the top of the steps and flopped onto the mattress. Though she’d hoped for sleep to just wash over her instantly, her brain instead kept a running total of all the things she needed to do now that she was back. She wasn’t interested. She wanted a cup of tea, some Chinese takeout, and to call in sick to work the next day. Responsibilities be damned, taking a vacation and going home was exhausting enough, now she needed time off.

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