Re: quicklog, hotel: graham & jake
[Jake wanted to turn his butt around and walk it on back to his own door. Looking at Graham, looking real careful at him from that step, made him think about the world where dead people walked around like it was nothing and his heart squeezed up in his chest like his lungs were trying to make enough room for air to run with. But running away wasn't something men did, and Jake knew that real well. Even if he'd given on in to painting at home, he knew running was a step too damn far.
So he stepped down two steps, and he sat, knees to skinny chest and his hands on both kneecaps. Jake wasn't thinking about new secrets, he was thinking about real old ones that didn't get talked about in the open. He was thinking of nightmares, and of the way his blood pounded sickly in his veins at all that mess, at the cool, sweet smell of his mother's skin, her hand slack and limp in his. He swallowed some on that, and he looked at Graham, ready for whatever it was that was coming on next.]