silent rebel

Late Registration

Knees locked from standing behind the desk, I force a smile for the guests tipping through the door like the contents of a spilled toy box; flight cases crashing and voices fighting for dominance.

Check-ins at this time of the morning are always either exhausted business travellers or bands fresh from the stage. Either way they’re only looking for the same thing: a drink or two and a warm bed. I try not to judge, although my mother would have told stories for weeks about the man who’s approaching the desk rummaging through the contents of a poly-pocket.

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silent rebel, punk

“Silent Rebellion”

A door clicks.

Floorboards creak.

Footsteps accompany cracked, rasping breaths.

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