You would never let us leave. I remember it… distinctly.
The room was revolting. That awful, mud-brown, flowered wallpaper and the stench of damp still haunt me to this day. If I had any say in the matter, we would have left as soon as I set eyes on that receptionist. His resemblance to the American hillbilly was uncanny, and I’m positive those brown stains weren’t coffee. Did he not realise he was talking to a New Yorker? I’ve split too much coffee on my own white shirts for work, to be fooled into believing those were coffee stains. You just smiled. He’s friendly though. You were never judgemental, though that was my biggest flaw, every upper-class, New Yorker’s biggest flaw. I examined the room. I insisted we left, but you wouldn’t. It was midnight, the moon shining full and bright in the sky, you knew we were both tired but I begged to drive just another few hours to find us a better place. You just wouldn’t let me. I remember. You wore that cute, pink, summer dress that you told me your dad got you last year for spring break. I must admit, it was adorable. Your light brown hair was growing long back then, also more ginger. You hated me saying it, but I was just being honest. I loved it. Seriously! Even when I tried to suggest it had just a ‘very, very, very, small tint’ of ginger, you would ignore me for the whole of the car ride, sitting with your headphones in, avoiding all eye contact. It amused me, which annoyed you more. Fun times. I remember though, you still had them daisies in your hair from that hippy festival the evening before. The boho glasses that drunken girl gave you, fuck, they had caused countless arguments between us when you thought you had lost them. You were admiring the moon, whilst I was critiquing everything. You didn’t care. It was evident. You found joy in the small things, the moonlight, and the navy sky. I remember, you pointed out that tree occupied with bats just outside our window. I would have overlooked it otherwise. That made me smile, made me realise that, maybe it wasn’t all so bad. Yet, I knew you would never let us leave anyway. I remember it distinctly. Who’d have thought that was twenty years ago? And who’d have thought, we’d go to bed and you’d never wake up? You broke my heart, you stupid girl.