Dream

Last night I dreamed of a faraway hotel room that looked like any other, mini-fridge and all, thin walls, just enough escape from the emptiness beyond the little peephole. In the morning when the sun came up it fired a shot of light through this tiny hole and tossed a rainbow disc on the wall near the bathroom.

But I don’t wake up in imagined arms. I wake up alone. I wake up alone even in my dreams, waiting for something to happen.

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