Chapter Sixteen
The Attic
Deep breathing exercises don’t help when I wake up and lay in the dark, feeling those weird little shocks of nervous energy. Sunrise in Denver is at 7:15 and the room grays up. Worried that it will be depressing to eat by myself, I go down to breakfast, but most of the people there are sitting alone at their own table, occupied with the newspapers scattered around or watching a television on the wall. The morning buffet is extensive with a crock pot of soupy oatmeal and steam trays of scrambled eggs, sausage, fruit, cheese, and biscuits. Breakfast feels a bit like a Height of Civilization moment while I flip through the paper and sip orange juice and Earl Grey.
After breakfast, I sit at the kitchen table in my room and search ‘c******s’ on my phone’s Google Map
