A troubled nap interrupted by the daily call from Telus.
I'm at her place, but it's not, there's an open door and movers are carrying large mattresses, she's staying in a hotel. She's changed, pierced her nose and lips and has large bangles interlocking, she's behaving strangely, seductive but odd; when she takes off her shirt there's a large purple birthmark between her breasts, over top of it grows a mat of hair...the doors open, movers coming and going in the hall ...
It's not her, not who I remember anyways, and I ask her about the piercings, the purple birthmark, it strikes me that she must be sick, have a terminal illness, cancer, but she ignores me, and I wonder why she's staying at this hotel - outside it's raining, grey, drizzling.
She wants to go downstairs to the buffet, they have a great creme pudding she tells me in a way that tells me she's been here before and I wonder with who, there are things she's not telling, we go to the buffet and there's a host of people talking, in one room there's a pile of desserts around a chocolate fountain, the other there are these tiny puddings, off-brown, star shapes and soggy crackers, people are lining up for them and they look repulsive, the light everywhere is dim and grey...