He took himself seriously.
Motel rooms had lost their punch for him.
He opened all his bags.
There were two and inside those two, there were two more.
It's not an easy situation.
But there was something like abandon in the air.
There was something like the feeling of the idea of silk scarves in the air.
There was a kind of madness to it.
The kind we read about in magazines.
One of the bags contained a bottle of liquor.
A sure sign of thoughtfulness about who one might have been.
He poured himself a small drink in a fluted plastic glass sans ice.
He thought to himself,
"If I were from the big town, I would be calm and debonair.
The big town doesn't send its riffraff out."
He sat on the bed, both feet on the floor.
He studied the ashtray and tried to rule out preference.
Preferring over not preferring.
But he preferred gravity over one other state.
Preferring in that case Earth, the Earth as they say.
Preferring some state over non-state.