Pilgrim

I asked to be taken to a hospital. I was possibly dying, and thought I should say so. Our guide, roaming the hotel to round up his charges for the morning tour, looked down where I had flung myself on a low padded bench against a wall in the pretentious lobby, and laughed out loud. Hooted. Then he turned and walked away, down the desert-coloured marble corridor that swam with gold light.

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