The room

I walk up to the dark wood-stained door of my hotel room and place the key in the worn brass lock; you can hear the pins drop inside the lock as I turn it clockwise.

I push open the door and the hinges creak with a sigh of relief.
The sight of mustard-coloured walls and old wooden furniture greet me as I step on the brown corduroy carpet that could do with a vacuum.
I can hear the light bulb straining trying to stay on; flickering from very-dull to dull.

The reflection of the ‘Le Hotel’ neon sign outside reflects in my wardrobe’s full-length mirror.
On closing the door behind me I place my suitcase on the floral bedspread. I walk up to the window and take a look outside; I see a French baguette walking along eating a man, and a dog riding a bike with a string of onions following behind.

I spot a reflection in the window pane and quickly turn to see a scantilly-dressed maid with a glass of milk; she slowly hands it over and I take a sip.
“The milk is warm,” I say whilst licking the remaining drips from my upper lip.
The maid adjusts her left breast with her wrist in a upward-heaving movement.
“My pleasure!” she says, turning on her heels as she quickly makes her way out of the room as quietly as she entered.
I place the milk down – I don’t quite fancy it now – nor do I want the cheese and crackers she left behind.

I walk into the bathroom and look into the oval mirror and I see a reflection that is not me.

To be continued…

Published by

bookmarkquinn

Mark Quinn has always been creative. A strong desire to fulfill a childhood dream is what spurred him on to write and publish his first book back in 2013. He lives in Manchester, England with his wife and furry friends. He is active in charity work and supports a variety of local causes. Mark’s wish is to entertain and amuse people with his stories, taking them out of their normal surroundings for just a brief time while they absorb his imagination through his writing. Happy reading! www.bookmarkquinn.com www.bookmarkquinn.uk

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