Only the Lonely

Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

(This month’s campaign is now only $20 shy of triggering another whole month of three posts a week, and a bonus Ziggy story for all! Deadline Dec 16th!Click for Details…)

Back at the hotel that night, my room was dark and quiet and it looked like the last person to be in here was the maid: the toilet paper folded into a triangle, the beds smooth.

Ziggy’d gone to crash with one of the other guys to stay away from me, but had left some of his clothes scattered around. I watched some cable TV, a bit of the Headbangers Ball (and damned if Bart wasn’t right) and paced around.

I packed what I’d taken out of my bag back into it, and checked my supply of cash. (I kept it in the neck compartment of the Ovation’s case. Maybe it was stupid to keep my money with my most expensive possession, but that way I figured I’d be sure not to leave it behind somewhere, and I’d always be watching to make sure it wasn’t stolen.)

I took a shower. My skin itched now from being too dried out, all the dry hotel air, and washing too often. In the bathroom was a little bottle of hotel brand lotion and I sat on the bed smearing it on my arms and shoulders.

I couldn’t help but think, if Zig were here, and we were speaking to one another, he could be putting the lotion on my back. If he came back to get the rest of his stuff…

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