The fire
drill and subsequent maintenance procedure carried out that afternoon had made
manifest some faults with the elevators and their automatic cut-out facility,
so when Skunk arrived at the hotel mid-evening he had to resign himself to
climbing stairs. He chose to go up one of the firewells situated at either end
of the main building, the sound of his every clump existing as a hard bubble
failing to burst in the cold concrete atmosphere.
His
heart sank to see the tray there at the far end of the floor, confirmation of
her having again taken room service in lieu of dining in the restaurant. She
was showing beyond the disguise loose clothing afforded and in that something
prompting a return to the habits associated with her first days at the hotel, when
shyness, guilt, and the breach exile had made in her habitual confidence
resulted in nothing but room service, and after every meal whether as
penance or not, she had washed up the dishes in the bathroom sink, placed them
on the tray outside her door.
Making
his way to her room, the corridor absolutely silent save for his footfalls and
the soon discerned lyrics of her song carried on a soft celtic inflection
ache1
(singing): "heart lies smothered in my breast. It’s not for you to let the world
know it. A troubled mind can know no rest. I leaned myself on a cask of"
affected
in deference to the father in whose voice she had first heard it sung. Brother
Skunk found himself wondering for the first time if antler, their unborn, would
be their only child, or if there would be others.
