"And then I woke up."
~anonymous
He rolled over, certain his client was asleep. The money was in a wad on the nightstand on what was his side of the hotel bed. He had counted it carefully after it was handed to him the previous hour. It was all there-plus a hefty tip-more than he would make in a month. Still, he felt empty- it wasn't his life, it wasn't his job, and it wasn't his body. Making his way to the bathroom, he let the water and soap remove his sins. It took nearly twenty minutes for him to feel clean enough for fresh clothes. Sore and bruised, he re-dressed and crept silently into the hall. Hiding his face from the desk clerk, he walked two blocks before getting sick. Hunched over, he leaned against a brick wall, trying to hold himself together. Thoughts of home and a warm bed- paid off bills and a full stomach- brought him back to the sidewalk. It was someone else's life, and someone else's pain, but it was his heat-less apartment, his empty refrigerator, and his sanctuary.