When we return to the hotel this time a stranger's hair is stuck to the soap in the soap dish. Someone has used a tissue to transfer my underwear from the drying rack to the side of the tub. Everything else remains unchanged.
This morning I ran. For one block the homeless man watched me advance upon him. I started to be afraid. As I drew closer he nodded his head to me. I nodded mine.
Did you like the book I lent you?
Yes, I felt at home there.
Where else do you feel at home?
I am trying to get back to a place within myself.
You're already in yourself.
Yes, but not quite.
After I run I walk back to the hotel. I sit on the couch dripping. I drink a half gallon of water, small plastic cup by cup.
