I stand here, in the lobby of the Jaic Hilton, Colombo waiting. Waiting yet again for the elevator. Waiting, like yesterday and the day before, like I shall tomorrow and the day after. Waiting, for the slow-ass elevators to come, waiting for them to go, waiting for movement. Always waiting.
If my room were not on the 23rd floor, if I was not in a suit, and if it wasn’t sweaty hot I would walk the stairs. I need the exercise; I have a triathlon to prepare for. If the pool wasn’t so nice, the room rates so low, and the location so perfect, I would switch hotels.
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