A woman smiles at me in the hallway.
I smile back - a simple enough exchange.
But then she says "Hi."
Now I've been given a task to complete.
I say "Hi" back - but I look down at the cup in my hand as I say it,
so I'm actually saying "Hi" to my coffee.
I'm just tired.
I am waked by the sound of the maid rolling her cart down the sidewalk which wraps itself around the outside of the motel; or is it a hotel? I never understood the difference.
It must be morning. But the room is dark. The T.V is still on low in the background from when it lulled me to sleep - and has been watching over me ever since.
I hear the cart again - this time louder, quicker; it sounds as if it has been pushed by some tremendous force straight INTO the door of my room. I sit up just in time to see a flash of light outside the window. I suddenly register what is being said on the television; there's a thunderstorm warning in effect. Ok, so...the supposed maid's cart was actually the thuds and rumbles of thunder.I look at the clock. 2:42 a.m. No wonder I'm still tired.
Another crash of thunder - and this time I jump out of bed and look around. I don't know why. I don't know what I'm looking for in the room - there's no one else there; just an open suitcase, a couple of damp towels, yesterday's clothes resting over the back of a chair, and a pessimistically half-empty can of warm soda on the table by the bed.
I start to panic because I can't remember what city I'm in - and am I coming or going - and where from or where to? I walk over to the door and open it, hoping to identify something outside. As I pull on the knob, I feel a twinge in my lower belly - which frightens me until I get distracted by the rain pouring over the parked cars and cement and tar outside. The picture starts to form in my memory - steadily returning at about the same pace as the quickening rhythm of the rain.
I pull my T-shirt and boxer shorts away from each other to expose my lower belly to the red glow of the Texaco sign across the parking lot. The incisions are healing.
I leave the door open for security while i dig a cigarette out of my bag and light it. The outside world is still there when I return to the open door. I smoke and stare out into the rain until I'm sure I have my bearings.
This is Kansas City.
