I knew I would regret it.

Ten more.

I settle for scrambled eggs and sausage, half-decaf-half-regular. She makes herself waffles and grabs packets of Nutella. We take the food back to the room.

“Even though it’s not fancy, sometimes it’s still nice to be in a hotel, isn’t it?” She agrees.

Only five.

It is not what I would have chosen for myself, but I am staying open. We can’t imagine living here. It is already so hot. There is only this one monster of a thing.

If I can just stay awake through all of these Taylor Swift ballads.

Things you see on the side of the road: a dented Arizona Iced Tea can, a plastic bag full of styrofoam, a scattering of clothes the color of the rainbow, dead grass, bits of tire.

How quickly all of this has come all of a sudden. This week will be quite fast and furious.

The same ill feeling from the night before. Perhaps it’s all the weird suburban takeout.