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Time to Embrace She lies on the dusty concrete floor in a foetal position at my feet; Unconscious. Vulnerable. Mine. We rest before one of the cellar’s many oil burners - vast, colossal blocks of iron they are the hotel’s stomach from which all of its energy is powered. Without these, The Clarion would not have its reputation for high standards and supreme customer satisfaction. Without these, The Clarion could not charge a week’s wages for one night’s stay. Without these… The room is hot and muggy – I persuade myself that it is only the heat making me pant. Her blond hair clings to her sodden forehead, glued to her skin by the sweat bleeding from her open glands; her eyes, though closed, dance as she dreams a nightmare less frightening than her awakened state... |
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