A darkly thick green light defines this late night dawdler. He’s invisible but for the glow of the emergency exit sign- it's the only thing turned on in this decomposing hotel. In emerald shadow he sits in front of final one o’clock beer, a lank newspaper there also. Someone had sex with someone else, or so some other alleges. As you approach, he fixes you with hobgoblin eyes aside unfathomable frown. He’s angry red by day and all hellish scowl, the warmth of the day’s sun emanating from his still half naked wrinkled body. He’s Earth-bound, no doubt, but his skin looks like the surface of another planet entirely.
