Little Motel

Jul 20th, 2010 by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

There is a stretch of highway where the tallest foliage is a three foot cactus. Shade is a commodity nearly as precious as water.

Blake sat on the porch of the Sierra Motel, staring at the horizon. His vision plumed and prismed in the heat, causing him to hallucinate. Or maybe he was already in Hell.

Blake lamented having to meet death with the lingering caress of rough linen on his skin and greasy cheeseburgers on his breath, but like his mom used to say, you get what you deserve.

At least he’d gotten one last night of decent sleep.

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