It was like they moved around the world, tramping across continents, skimming oceans, traveling miles from point to point to end up in the same damn hotel room every time.
There was always a print of watercolor flowers on one wall. There was a faux blonde-wood cabinet with a cheap TV (if they were lucky, HBO). There were always two nightstands, two lamps (one of which never worked), and Bibles in the drawers. There were floral borders around every wall.
Every time Amon saw the same hotel room in the same shades of beige, he couldn't stop himself from thinking how deeper the green in her eyes seemed.