Home, Sweet Home

We check into our hotel. I feel as though I’m in a very bad 70’s film. The walls are moldy; the paint is peeling. There is a wobbly linoleum topped table in one corner of the room. The shower head is encased with rust and there is no shower curtain. I sigh as I watch a cockroach scurry across the stained carpet. This will be my home for the next five days.

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