There, in the darkness and humidity of the hotel room you're standing in, the only light that shreds through the room's jet-black and thickly-woven curtains is an electric blue light. It appears to you analog, and the outline between the electric mint-blue light and the darkness of the hotel room's walls is razor sharp. The television isn't on. The ice in the bucket next to the liqour cracks a little. You're standing perfectly still in the middle of the room, in-front of the bed. Your arms are locked to your sides. Your mind is blank. Your focus is zeroed in on that sharp light spread across the hotel walls.
You stand still and upright for several minutes, no thoughts come to you during that time. You fail to even realize how long it's been, you're so focused on the electric light as it shifts up and down the mint-green walls of the hotel room you're staying in. You trace the contour of the light with your eyesight as it moves across the room, peeling through the architecture, dancing on your body.
You eventually sit down on the side chair, dodging the light and allowing it to cover more of the room you're supposed to be staying in. It's no longer your room, you internalize. The room belongs to the light now.
Below you, a disembodied voice speaks what sounds to be French, startling you, snapping you out of the trance. You bend over your seat to find a small radio, hidden behind the chair, you pick it up and press your thumb on the button beside the reciever.
"... Hello?" You utter somewhat awkwardly. You clear your throat and let out another, much more legible "Hello?"
