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against the wall as I wrenched the headboard from its fixtures. She
came in to help me lift the shell all the way over the balcony and sent
it crashing against the pavement with the loudest explosion of them
all. We gazed, stunned, at the pile of furniture carcasses below until
the moment was interrupted by the droning of police sirens. ‘What’s
your name?’ She finally got around to asking me.
‘Abigail.’ I replied.
‘Well Abigail,’ she handed my camera over to me. ‘It seems as if
this is our cue to leave.’
She took my hand in hers, and then we were running.
‘
Motel Hell
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