At the lecture hall, the walls are a Pepto Bismol pink. I sip Diet Coke to try settling my stomach, before realizing that I probably won't be able to sit upright for two hours, not with this 24-hour bug churning in me.
A sleek gray rectangle with an impressive amount of power.
Wires have burst from the walls like intestines. It's a cold and dusty room.
The rooms are in gray and white, the lights are bright, the professionals simulate kindness.
The birthday card spurts from his hand and splats on the table, where a newspaper will soon slink over it.
Staying up late to look at models of RVs. I imagine fitting one out and just driving for months.
I wish them all well, while feeling out of place among them.