PleaseGodturnitintoastory

The hotel room is unsettlingly familiar, as if I've drawn a ghost memory out of the earlier faded pages of my life and breathed it into existence. A blue flowered quilt cover hugs the wide double bed, the assortment of throw pillows and cushions and the creamy folds of the sheet beckoning my tired body. And ah yes, customarily there's a picture hanging over the bed as every respectable hotel room is wont to feature. This one is a framed shot of a stretch of beach, the waves frozen as they rise up to meet the sand. A bedside lamp throws warm yellow light over the bed and the beach. It could almost be cozy, yet…yet, there's something nagging at the back of my memory. I walk over to the window and pull back the matching blue curtains. The Malaysian sky is stormy. A strange blue light seems to emanate from outside the window, and the glass is streaked with angry rain. I look at my reflection and quickly pull away as the faintest hint of recognition crosses my face.

Have I been here before?