This is an erotic piece of fiction established in the real world.
*****
Houses in the sleepy neighborhood of Brookdale bathed in morning fog; Trees mingling with lofty cloudscapes hung overhead, extending past civilization to create a vexing tapestry of flora and fauna. Twilight lingered, dripping starlight onto riverbanks still blanketed in the chill of night. Insects skittered throughout dew-laden grass, instilled with an initiative long abandoned by most at the week's climax. Soothing gradients crested over treetops, painting clarity for anyone weary eyed. With once muffled chirps now penetrating hours of solitude to create auditory splendor; the night was finally vanquished.
While many weren't at all eager to finish the week's remaining hours of servitude, one particular individual snuck himself in between the layers of sunlight and moonlight in pursuit of peace. With his shoes nearly falling apart, the twenty-seven year old soldiered onward to meet with his street's entrance. Not one house in the entirety of Brookdale gave off a light, still in denial of responsibility. Zach's presence wasn't required anywhere today, so he couldn't begrudge them for feeling pensive; after all, work was dissipated from his day in preparation for a vacation. A three-day vacation but an escape from the mundane goings on that reality offered him for the better part of his twenties.
With nothing but an iPod in tow and heavy eyes, the sleep deprived youth meandered toward his house as though he was returning from war. Fortunately, in a couple of hours, his clamor for a change of scenery would present itself. Unfortunately, Alabama would maintain its grasp on him for just a while longer as he trudged home with the melancholy realization that his father would gravitate into his cone of vision for at least a few seconds. The three-second malaise of trudging past alcohol-fueled insults, though brief, dominated every other negative aspect of most days in Zach's life.
Anticipating an unwarranted tongue lashing, the volume was cranked up until his own thoughts were inaudible. With one swift motion, Zach pushed the front door open, spun around, and closed it without glancing at his dad even slightly. Noise blared over anything else within proximity, maintaining the illusion that nobody was home. Turning to dart toward the hall, this illusion was broken as his father sat slumped over on a messy couch peppered with cigarette burns. The slightest glance triggered an onslaught of incendiary threats, paramount to a caveman's hunt being encroached upon.
His mass couldn't be mistaken for muscle, even on rare occasions when Tommy chose to wear a shirt, it clamored to escape. Short unwashed hair as black as his lungs paralleled the glutton's facial hair, though far more alcohol and snot happened to be layered into his hideously uneven mustache. As infrequently as Tommy chose to bathe, even less so did he brush his few remaining teeth. Nary a moment passed when he wasn't sat at home increasing the size of the dent created on his couch long ago. This picture had been burned into Zach's brain as a representation of what he didn't want to become.
A powerful thud could be felt resonating throughout the house as Zach's bedroom door was shut behind him. A black suitcase drowned in a sea of discarded clothes and damp towels. Various other objects were scattered throughout the room in the form of water bottles and cables of various size and shape. Zach walked an hour to work and back, eroding any effort potentially aimed at cleaning up whenever some free time came out of hiding. Taking a moment to assess the situation, the road weary traveler collapsed on his bed and reveled in the solace of relaxing in Portland for the weekend.
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In a suspiciously conniving effort expended by a wave of toddlers, Zach's initial plan of sleeping for the duration of his flight wasn't successful. Accompanying this common nuisance was a more updated version in the form of inconsiderate adults tapping away at unnecessarily loud mobile games. Obnoxious though it was, the possibility that they were unknowingly racking up charges through microtransactions somewhat put the dreary-eyed vacationer at ease. Unfortunately, this was intercepted by the fact that the hours of audible abuse encountered here deterred even the slightest possibility of achieving a refreshed composure. Filled to the brim with regret, Zach opted to combat one questionable motive with another and loaded up on caffeine, occasionally making death laced eye contact with certain passengers that were seemingly transplanted from the ninth circle of hell.
Boundless energy clashed with grogginess as Flight 541 completed its journey. A welcoming breeze painted itself against Zach's beanie, barely making an impact as the overly caffeinated adult stormed out of Portland International Airport. A mixture of mental degradation and hyperactivity affected his ability to access the Uber app, though he eventually figured it out, his discourse with the unlucky driver was paramount to sidling along a steep mountainside whilst carrying a belligerent goat in tow. The fish out of water hadn't a propensity for forced conversation, not at all valuing whatever score his chauffeur was concocting for the duration of their short trip. Attention was more-so fixated on the urban layout of high rise buildings, spewing out of them crowds Zach hadn't witnessed in the rural tapestries of Southern Alabama.
At the mouth of the Hotel Marriot stood Zach, rummaging through various pockets in search of his phone to assist with checking in. As loose change spilled onto Portland's streets, a litany of hotel patrons swept by. A great deal of them were outfitted in garb representative of video games, comic books, and even wrestling; giving the impression that they had flown in for Wizard World as well. Worriment was plastered across the face of several hotel employees, parallel to Simba anticipating the stampede. Suitcases banged against buckling knees, causing the sleep deprived to merge with concrete as though they were taking their hobbies a bit too seriously by trying to meld with stone.
Puzzled and in many ways impressed by how quickly this escalated into the train wreck laid out before him, Zach shambled over body parts, nearly getting tripped up as though souls in the River Styx were trying to escape. The rebel of Brookdale felt a sense of accomplishment after having experienced the juxtaposition of sidestep clamor outside to now being enveloped by an overwhelming rush of relaxation inside. Certain circles preparing an excursion to Wizard World congregated at various points throughout the lobby. The less awkward individuals amidst the hysteria could be heard voicing their excitement in barely distinguishable patches as Zach cruised toward his room. Eyeing many of the female figures that darted past him, the libertine viciously rubbed his eyes, now treating said women as inspiration for barreling through the rest of the day instead of passing out where he stood.
