Harry asks the Bar for a new suit, underwear, and a shirt and tie. Something stylish, white and silk ( Read more... )

Days, weeks, maybe even months have passed since that elevator door opened up on this place. Harry is lying on his back in a wifebeater and boxers with a pack of cigarettes and an ashtray next to him on the bed. His eyes are closed and his breathing slow but he is awake. Awake and letting his thoughts dissect his feelings in an effort to ( Read more... )

Harry runs in from the cold and grabs his bottle of bourbon from the seat where he stashed it at the table near the piano. The chill in his bones sends him up the stairs two at a time until his lungs decide that a slow leisurely walk is how the journey will continue. He pauses at each landing to catch his breath or grab a smoke and to wonder why ( Read more... )

Looking at the worn brass key in his hand, Harry slowly meanders his beaten form up the steps to find his room. The symbol on the key is a triangle and after 12 floors he still hasn't found it. He leans against a door to take a break sliding down to the floor. Each breath wheezes in and whistles out. His lungs burn with too much smoking and too ( Read more... )

Harry thought.

He is riding an elevator with his best friend.

“We are going to the top.  We made it.”

Harry and Brandon.

“No. We haven’t made it yet” he thinks, facing away from his best friend, “There is still Big Daddy above me.  Us.  He is still above us.  Why am I sweating?”

He glances at his best friend, seeing the light reflected in those ( Read more... )