(xxiii.)

Frank awoke to the sounds of carhorns on the road outside the window.

He sat up, in the small bed, and looked around the dimly-lit motel room.

On the floor, he noticed a lone, solitary pillow.

"Oh, well, looks like Lorelei abandoned her post," he mumbled, sarcastically, to himself.

He threw the covers back, and stood up. His wrinkled flannel pajama pants rumpled around his knees.

"Lor?"

All he could hear was the traffic outside.

He meandered to the window, scratched himself.

"Why is it so dark in here?" he mumbled, as he pulled open the green brocade draperies.

The room was suddenly flooded with light.


There, in front of Frank, was a dead man, hanging in a noose, outside the window.



[chapter xxiv]