Thank you, Rochelle, for hosting Friday Fictioneers.
I’d Sacrifice Anything Come What Might
The hotel on the canal is the ugliest establishment I’ve ever seen, but when we enter the dilapidated lobby, a Guatemalan woman is singing Sinatra’s “Oh, Look at Me Now.” I squeeze John’s hand. Serendipity. He smirks.
Mold scents our bedroom, which overlooks the murky canal. The smell of fish hovers. Paint on the walls curls upward. I refuse to look around, fearful of multi-legged creatures.
Instead, we hug and kiss, fall passionately onto the lumpy mattress.
“I’ve Got You Under My Skin” rises through the thin floors. My fingers caress. Finite time echoes.
We have now.
Sascha Darlington 2/8/2018