The city buildings outside of Dad’s suave hotel of sophistication, screamed luxury. I didn’t think they went so high. City people don’t look up. They look far past the street and into several blocks down. Never stopping. Up there, it was like we were above everything. The working people on their computers in the offices across the street still had their lights blaring florescent. It was just getting dark, but it doesn’t matter when windows are stars and stars are imaginary.

I gazed a thousand miles away at his New York Times that he had sent to the room. The king sized bed with bland, white, sheets matching the walls and hotel art stood blankly staring back at me. Mahogany wooden shelves and dressers with his fancy looking cell phone and keys placed on top. The black suitcase was walked up to our room by a black door man all-too-eager to open the door. I couldn’t help wondering if these were the people on our block. The ones people could buy ten dollars worth of dope from. The cologne said no.

Dad walks in an air of happy oblivion. So far away from what really goes on in skanktown basements of night crawling cities. He likes it that way. Pillow Chocolates and fancy dining with taxi’s as far as the eye can see.

“You like this camera?” I smile proudly, pulling out an expensive looking, tiny, digital camera from a hidden pocket. “I found it in the back of a cab one night.”

“Oh yes, that’s the exact model I was thinking of buying.”

I remembered last years Christmas present I saved for him. A digital camera. I said nothing as we were miles away in room 903.


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