That evening I checked into the

motel

late. The man, who I only could assume to be the owner, looked upset. Downtrodden. Didn't know if it was because he just hated being there or if he was genuinely having a bad day.

I say he had to be the owner because he didn't seem like an employee waiting for quitting time. There's a different feel to those kind of people. This man seemed like he was living in a prison cell.

'Thanks" I told him when he gave me my key. Room 17. But he didn't say anything back.

That night I didn't

sleep

well. I kept waking up and looking at the door. I was half expecting that odd looking guy to break in. I didn't know what he'd do once he came in here. Realistically I didn't think he was violent. And even more realistically, I didn't expect him to break in at all. But watching him earlier while sitting in my car. It left an impression on me.

In the evening I smelled food through the outdoor area. A home cooked meal it smelled like. Strange because I never associated motels with home cooking. Instead it was usually pizza and other kind of take out. Food you could enjoy for a evening, maybe a few. But not every night for the rest of your life.

I ordered Chinese for myself. General Tso chicken and some rice. The more stale kind of rice rather than the wet sticky kind the Koreans gave you. I ate it all at 9:30 PM then crashed. When my eyes opened back up around 11, I couldn't fallback into a deep sleep again. My mind fixated too much on that man.