[ WP ] Theme : Transience / Nothing lasts forever

I live in a hotel room. 
 
 It ’ s not that I can ’ t afford a house, I have plenty of money from various sources. I just prefer to stay in a small, tidy room without the distractions of supporting oneself. The hotel isn ’ t too expensive or too cheap, it ’ s better than paying rent in a lot of places. 
 
 The manager doesn ’ t seem to mind. I pay for my room and I don ’ t cause any disturbances, so she lets me stay as long as I want. I ’ m too shy to stir up any trouble. I ’ m not the kind of hotel guest who drains the mini-fridge in a night and throws the television out the window. Not that I ’ m a paragon of goodwill, I just don ’ t like getting in people ’ s way. 
 
 Every morning I eat breakfast in the hotel restaurant. I sit near the window in the corner so I can choose to look outside or at the reception desk. From my vantage point I can see everyone checking in and out. Families, singletons, philanderers, businessmen; everyone passes through here. 
 
 This is my world and this is its population. An endless stream of unique strangers, sad, mad and blissful. They come and go, as people tend to do, rarely returning to this realm that I hold so dear. 
 
 Occasionally I see some interesting people. There was an awful looking woman with a wonderfully fluffy dog and all I could think of was Cruella De Vil. Part of me wanted to run up and take the dog away from her, but I knew I couldn ’ t. I longed to have a pet. At least it would give me someone to talk to, not that it would talk back. 
 
 One day I saw the most beautiful man in the world. I have seen a lot of people walk in and out of this hotel and I knew that I would never see everyone, but I could tell that there was no one more beautiful than him. 
 
 I was too far away to hear his voice but I could tell from the way his lips moved that he was a very smooth talker. His dark hair was pushed back perfectly and his crisp suit just screamed businessman. His lips curled up slightly to make it look like he was perpetually amused but his big sad eyes told a different story. 
 
 I stared at him until he went to his room and smiled to myself, glad to have been in his presence. I took pleasure in little things like that, given that people watching was my main source of entertainment. That night I sent up a bottle of champagne to his room. He looked like he needed a smile. 
 
 I have gotten to know the staff quite well over the years. Some of them enjoy me, some of them avoid me, but all of them know who I am. Any new recruits have my situation explained to them, to varying degrees of comprehension. The manager tends to just eye me from a distance, likely bewildered by my existence. 
 
 I return to my plain room every evening and stare at the ceiling. Maybe one day I ’ ll check out and they won ’ t even remember my name. 
 
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 ( I do n't quite know if it fits, but it certainly has an air of transience about it )
