I wrapped myself in a towel and got in the bed between the comforter and the topsheet. He looked over at me from his side of the bed. “My sister worked at a motel, I don’t think they usually wash these things,” he said, lifting up a corner of the comforter, sniffing it and saying “I guess it’s fine” before getting underneath it himself.
“They have cable,” I said. “Turn on QVC. I want to see the dumb shit they’re selling.”
A woman meets a stranger from Craigslist for a night in a rundown motel, where they share a bath and swap stories. Thanks to Turn and Work for enthusiastically publishing this weird piece.
The pacing of this story troubles me. It begins in languid intimacy- who are these people to each other? It then shifts to a hurried pace – what is happening here? And then ends up where it began, minus one player.
What even is intimacy, anyway?
Read it here.
Kelli Dianne Rule: Author 
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