An obligation few people could understand meant cleaning up messes even when they weren’t his.
A fine dusting of talcum powder death was washed off the glass table top. Rotten air, exhaled by contaminated lungs, black with lies, swept out the doorway. His meticulous attention to detail an attempt to erase all evidence of her from the room.
Turning off the lights, curtains open to a wash of gaudy neon, the stench of hotel illness hung in the air. He could still hear the sirens echoing in his head.
Her soul already dead, her body simply needed to catch up.
100 Word Song, a writing challenge from Lance based on a weekly music prompt. Give 100 words, not 99, not 101. This week’s challenge is inspired by The Black Crowes – “Hotel Illness”.