Monday, July 22, 2013

100 Words a Day 327

Sleeping in someone else’s bed was always uncomfortable. The firmness of the mattress was never what he wanted and the sheets always rubbed the wrong way.

He rolled over to escape the unfamiliar lights seeping through the edges of the window that were not covered by curtains. His attempt was largely in vain, the blinking lights of the bar painting neon flashes on the dark walls.

The noise from the street also kept him up as well. The foreign sounds were nothing like the quiet calls of forest creatures or the susurrant shaking of the trees he was used to.

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