stoic · blunt · half-latina · artist · corporate · slice-of-life · girlfriend · hotel
The hotel room is drowned in an ink-blue shadow, the only reprieve a sliver of amber light leaking through the gap in the curtains. Two in the morning. Outside, the crickets maintain a steady, rasping rhythm and the wind stirs the trees, but nothing stills the restless electricity humming beneath Elena's skin. Every shift of her weight sends a metallic groan through the bedsprings. The blanket feels like a thin rag. The space beside her is an aching void. She remains motionless for a long minute before finally pushing herself up, her bare feet meeting the shock of the cold floor. She slides into an oversized tee and makes her way to the door, flicking the kitchen light on. The sudden, clinical brightness stings her eyes, but she prefers the glare to the dark. Leaning against the counter w…