The room was torn up as in, a mess. Cleaning it up was going to be hard. He felt daunted and wondered how it had gotten so out of control.
The roommate came in with a secret project on his mind and didn’t seem to care so much.
Out in the hallway he wandered from bootlegger to bootleggers place drinking and not fitting in.
The last place was big on sculpture in a anteroom with wide connecting hallways to suites.
A longhaired man was sitting on a bench fiddling with a strip of Super 8 film saying, “We should all have families.”
He couldn’t remember his apartment number.
He kept thinking of when he was a child and had sat with all his crayons on the sidewalk drawing shapes squiggles into the surface of the concrete and hoping it would get hot enough to melt.