There were ants in the bathroom. They came crawling out of the gutters and cracks in the walls, probing searching, forming roads along the tiles of the floor. He slept wide into the open day. When he woke, all frights walked in the blazing sun without their clothes.
In the lobby an islam preacher, white robe and beard, the staff of a pilgrim;
A guy making humming, whistling noises and flipping pencils with his fingers, two in each hand, very quickly, eyes turned upward, staring at the ceiling.
Distant land, the clock.