FROM DAY TO DAY

All those thick windows, immovable. All that air, fresh-spilt from the atmosphere, circling around outside where no one could reach it. Raoul lent his head back, letting the weight of it piston out the cricks in his neck. Day nine, in this luxury hotel room. Luxury already more than gone. Just a more comfortable prison, the same way any place turned awful the longer you spent in it.