THE NEXT MORNING, I ORDER ROOM SERVICE, AND A YOUNG man shows up wheeling a little cart with my breakfast on it. I’ve ordered a grapefruit and a Montreal bagel with cream cheese, and fresh orange juice and coffee. The bagel is too dry, the cream cheese cold and hard but with a film of grease.
After breakfast, I walk over to $isi’s room and knock on her door; no one answers. I slip the key card in the slot and walk inside. The bed hasn’t been slept in. I notice $isi on the floor, on the other side of the bed, by the window. She’s on her back. She is very white with a punch of red for lips. Right away, I picture a gurney with her tiny form laid out on it being wheeled out of the hotel. The camera flashes, the microphones, Mark showing up sweaty and crazed (his invisible monkey pinching him
