I’ve been stranded here for a little over a year now – one year and fifteen days, if you like preciseness. I suppose I could try to leave, but…
There she is.
The reason why I’ve been staying at this hotel.
Look at her.
See how she walks with such grace and confidence. Her shoulders are back. Her head is high.
I’ve fantasized about dancing with her – holding her in my arms, thinking “One-two and one-two and one-two-three.” She would look up into my face, look into my eyes. Maybe she’d be serious. But I like to think that she would smile. A secret smile. A lovely smile just for me.
If only I had the guts to talk to her. To really talk to her.
Yeah. I’ve been here for a whole year now and I haven’t said anything more than sporadic “Hellos” and…And yeah, that’s pretty much it. Hello. Not even good-bye. Just hello.
And she always walks past me – unseeing me, uncaring about me. I bet she doesn’t even know my name. Probably isn’t even interested. Probably doesn’t even realize that I exist. Probably has no idea I’ve existed here for a year and fifteen days.
And why? Why would she care about me? I’ve seen her go out into the courtyard late at night with her group of young men. Acoustic guitars play warm, tangled riffs that lead to a middle aged man singing with a hurt in his voice and a tear in his eye.
But she doesn’t care for his hurt or his tears. Just as she doesn’t care for me. She dances with her young men – laughing. Ohh. How she laughs. Some of the men dance with brightness in their eyes. Others dance in hung-head silence. She laughs at them all.
I can’t hope.
I shouldn’t hope.
But it’s all that I have.
A simple hope.
A fool’s hope that she will see me one day and invite me to her dance. I will say yes and oh! How we will dance.
Until that day, I will stay here.
Here at my own personal Hotel California.