New city, new places, new faces, but one thing never seemed to change. Pushing the dark stained brown door open, I opened the door to my hotel room. The air conditioning cranked up so high I could smell the cold as it mingled with the odor of freshly changed sheets. The bathroom was on my immediate right as I took a step inside. The room was long and narrow like a hallway. The wall behind the bed was a deep maroon red which contrasted with the rest of the beige room. The flat screen TV sat upon its chocolate brown stand which left me barely any room to maneuver between it and the bed.
It was late at night due to the flight being delayed because of bad weather and I was exhausted. I grabbed what was essential and headed for the bathroom. Plastic wrapped cups sat on top of the beige granite sink along with a bar of soap still sitting in its box. Above the toilet white fluffy towels sit within distance of the bathtub, waiting to be used. Exactly like all the other bathrooms in Chicago, Detroit, and Denver.
I pulled back the forest green comforter to reveal the starch white sheets glaring out underneath the lamplight. It was like staring at snow on a bright sunny day and my skin protested against the iciness as I climbed in. Turning off the lamp, the room was descended into darkness except for the lights dancing on the walls through the window from the enveloping city.
Unfortunately, sleep wasn’t going to be coming anytime soon. It had been months since sleep had come easily. The sheets didn’t smell like me. They didn’t smell like home. I didn’t have a home in this city or in the last city or the one before it. Home was back in Kansas with my family and friends. A city filled with memories of laughter, silliness, and warmth. Not this strange alien city that was devoid of any warmth.
I felt empty inside like all the hotel rooms I’d stayed in. A single tear rolled down my face as I finally slipped away into a dream.