Vibrating Bed

It's me. Kwan.

It's 10 p.m. and I'm writing from the Paradise Motel, Unit 18. Vick knew where I was because I stole his American Express Card and rented this room last Monday night. The room is in back by the freeway. When trucks drive by it shakes the glass in the window.

I'm in the bathroom with the laptop. They have WiFi here which is hilarious because they don't have bathmats or soap.

Vick is sleeping on the vibrating bed. It's still vibrating. The machine is jammed so the bed hasn't stopped vibrating since Vick got here Tuesday night. It's great for lovemaking but I have to actually sleep on the floor. Vick likes sleeping on the jiggling bed. He says he grew up in earthquake country so it's nothing new for him.

He's going to force me to go to the Labor Day Family Barbecue on Monday. I told him we were through, but he said I was through for stealing his credit card and he would call the police. I'm running for Congress next year so I figured I'd play the good girl.

Vick said he would get me a job, in the meantime. He said one of his sisters at the Barbecue Monday would help me out.

I'm all alone in the world, and it's so hot outside, even at 10:20 p.m.

There goes another freight truck speeding by the bathroom window. Makes the glass chatter like teeth.

Is anyone out there?

Kwan