Lia and Chuck ended up sneaking into the dank corridor of an old, decrepit building at some junction of hell, Lia having failed to notice the blank pallet behind his steady gaze. The thin runner of carpet on the floor beneath them in that dirty old building had passed into a stage quite beyond filth, decayed as it was like the dead bones of some old body, fused together now and one with the creaking wooden floor. The hallway smelled of urine and Lia suddenly felt itchy all over.
Her back against the wall in a dark corner of that foul-smelling place, so different, so strange compared to Coronado, Chuck would not let go of her as they stood in a dark corner, rapt in an embrace not of love, until Lia couldn’t bear it any longer, until she felt herself suffocating for the smell of the place,
