The Short Stay Tiki Bar and Resort

I don't remember how I got here. I don't see my sailboat at the dock.

 

The room service mentioned something about a karaoke night coming up. But I swear I've heard the singing every night. Such beautiful singing.

 

The fish tacos here are great. The piña coladas and margaritas don't hurt, either. The room service says they catch the fish fresh at sunrise every day. I don't know how many times I've called room service.

 

I think there are really big fish that come up close to the shore at night. It's too dark at night for me to see them clearly. But I hear them. Murmuring.

 

This postcard was the first thing I saw after I got into my room the first night. I used to know how many nights I've been here. I know I wrote it somewhere. No one has come in to change the sheets or refill the tiny shampoo bottles.

 

I hear other tourists splashing in the pool, but I've never seen them. I can hear them laugh. I can smell their sunscreen. I can smell the chlorine and sea salt. I can hear something else besides the tourists. It fills the room. Just like that singing. I wake up to it in the morning. I fall asleep to it. I thought it was just from the shore, but I don’t really know where it's from. Wood smashing apart. Metal scraping. Rushing water, like something falling into the ocean. Then, when the sun is up, nothing. It might be coming from the docks.

 

Oh, room service is coming. Hopefully, a maid will come by soon, too. I should ask if they can fix whatever happened to the locks on my door. I think they might be on the wrong side.