The telephone rings sharper, it seems, when in a dark room. The line is already dead when I put the receiver on my ear and I roll back into the soft allure of fading sleep.
There’s no panic in disorientation anymore. It’s just another hotel room. The device display unfolding as I make my way to the bathroom brings me quickly into context. The dormant laptop, the plugged-in mobile phone, the cables, the papers, the inescapable memories of recent labour.
The bathroom floor feels cold on my naked feet. I catch my eye in the mirror... I'm not sure what you're up to but I’ll wash you.
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