a gorgeous hotel, in a grand city

'i had walked across the carpeted lobby and down a long marble corridor,
passing glassed-in phonebooths and rows of tall potted plants, and
staggered into the men's room.

my eyes were stinging. everything had grown blurry as i'd made my way
through the lobby. i moved toward the sinks and the mirrors. i could no
longer see my own hands, but in the brightness i sensed the expanse of tile
and brushed metals and knew at once that i was alone.

i was squinting, i guess. i contracted every muscle in my face. as i did
this a series of droplets came out of both eyes and stayed close to my
cheeks, traveling down them, each droplet leaving a kind of track. streaks,
i suppose. for a few brief moments i could see again. the tiles and the
metals. then again the room grew blurry.

it was then i heard a faucet running. someone was there. a man was
suggesting i was crying. crying! i doubted this–told him i seriously
doubted this. i slumped down onto my knees, holding my head in both
hands. more droplets. my head felt just like a trophy, so i held it as such."

~michael earl craig