Red Saloon

The donkey and the pool are irrelevant, mere props to detract from the events unfolding in motel room 4. Its occupant parked his red saloon car outside. It was unlikely at this juncture that the anyone would arrive in time. No-one had visited this theme park in years. There were no more yellow coats urging participation in tongue in cheek party games. No more ladies with womanly curves chatting on balconies and roaring at kids below.

Fun was dead and white washed walls and freshly painted railings couldn't hide the decay.

He took the pills out and laid them on the bare mattress. He counted twenty two. Would it be enough? Would the cavalry arrive? He thought briefly of his wife who left with a pharmaceutical sales rep. two months previously. He thought of his kids, now grown with lives of their own. He raised a bottle of water to his mouth and viewed the pills. After thirty minutes, the water was drunk and the pills uneaten. Sweat poured down his back.

He opened the door and looked up at the blue skies and telegraph posts linking people to people, conversations, fights, people making up, forgiving, forgetting, maybe moving on.

He went outside. He knew there was a public pool down the road. He decided to go for a swim.