The bed is too soft. Or too hard. There’s a single piece of abstract art on the wall, bolted down so no one steals it. The curtains promise blackout but leak a thin blue line of parking lot light at the bottom. The thermostat makes a sound like a small animal breathing. You turn it off. It starts again.
You fall asleep with the menu still open. The screen asks: Are you still watching? 28 hotel rooms streaming
No. But you’re still here.
You don’t want to watch anything. You want to watch something . The bed is too soft