I don't know why I'm still here. It seems like every time I wake up in this room I hear myself give that same answer. Lately, I don't even have to ask the question. I don't know where I'm supposed to be going or why I'm not going there. Each day seems to pass into the next without reason or purpose and I find myself wondering more and more often if I shouldn't step off and start fresh again. The stiff orange noose was still hanging from the ceiling lamp, still willing. I wonder if it would be different next time, if I could forget that I can remember.

I got up and looked out my window onto the dark street below. The clock at the bank across the street flashed nine-thirty.

“It has to be p.m., it's dark outside,” I thought as I rummaged through the English and Bulgarian newspapers on the kitchen counter, looking for the Los Angeles master bus schedule. I sat on the bed and planned my getaway from the warehouse back to the club as I flipped through the coffee-stained booklet, cross-checking routes.

The hotel lobby was full of men when I went down to use the phone. Leo sat on a stool behind the counter and strained his eyes to see the snowy television screen hanging in the corner. Red, Murphy, Cotton, and a new old guy were playing gin at a card table set up behind one of the couches.

"Hey kid, did ya scrape up enough money for rent?" Red shouted across the lobby. He chuckled to himself as he went back to his conversation.

The Ohio hadn't been a hotel in the conventional sense in ages. It's the kind of place that draws two types of men: those who don't feel comfortable making plans or committing to anything so they live week to week and those who stop here temporarily on their way to the street. I hoped I was in the first group.

I stepped over to the pay phone and dialed the club.

"Henry, Henry!" I shouted over the background noise on his end. "It's Evan. Hey, let's do this thing tomorrow!"

Loud knocking woke me out of a dead sleep. I answered the door rubbing at my eyes.

"Good morning sunshine!" said Henry, chuckling.

I motioned for him to come in.

"Charming, is that a noose?" he asked sarcastically.

"No, it’s just how they decorate here," I said behind the bathroom door, trying to think up something. “It’s a new motivational tool the city is installing in these 7th Avenue flophouses.”

Henry looked around. The room was cleaner than usual. "Man, you really need to do something about this place. This is like county jail, no pictures, no art, no amenities, just books, clothes, bed… and a noose. Why don't you throw up some curtains at least? Do you know what this place needs? Plants, something green and alive."