red wash

Where am I?

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Copyright © 2010, Michael M Wayman

It is dark. I lie warm and wet.

It is light. I lie cold and wet. Through the window I can see a big city.

I know why I am wet. Some man lies next to me, dead. But who?

I must be in a tall building, a hotel perhaps. But where?

But first. Who am I? Am I me? I need to find a mirror. I get up. There is a bathroom. Yes, it is me. Yes, I'm without clothes and very red. I don't care. I shower.

And second. Where am I? Yes, a hotel room. The headed notepaper names a big city that I have never been to. The door is locked with a key. I cannot find any women's clothes, just men's.

No, I don't know him. He is or was middle-aged, middle-sized, middle-ugly and clothed. I've seen worse. I work with a doctor in a small town. I've seen worse and I manage to hold my stomach.

Bolt! I should get out of here, and fast. No, first think! Yes, bolt, run for it. I don't want to know. It's not my problem.

Oh, how cute! He must have learnt it from his mother. All the clean clothes for the next day all laid out. I have no choice – I'm not staying naked. I put them on, get my hair into a ponytail and stuff it down the back of the shirt.

I put on his jacket, rather heavy, and sunglasses, and walk out of the hotel as calmly as I can.

“Cab? Sir!”

“No thank you! I'm going for a walk in the park.”

There is a park on the other side of the road, perhaps I can get away from the hotel, sit down and get my head back together. A street map informs me of the main railway station not far away. Find somewhere to sit and think it out.

Think? I sit down and cry. Listen to me! You have just walked out from a murder. You do not know how you got here. You are a suspect. You have no idea what has been done to you. You are in deep!

For the next part click on next red wash story➤
with the title Gut City Blues