(one hand story)

i just got home, and for the first time that i could remember, the lights were on at reception. two norwegian boys were knitting caps at the desk. one was already wearing a hat; i figured he'd made that one as well. the rest on the hotel was dark as usual. the only discernible activity was the sound of my father watching steven soderbergh's version of solaris in 107. i brought a half empty box of pizza from the kitchen fridge to 112, and was watching the snow fall outside when helena stopped by. she asked me when i'd gotten in and i offered her a slice of pizza. it was mushroom and asparagus. we started watching the snow fall together. It had been falling consistently for a couple of days. except under the overhang covering the valet lane where i parked my white pickup, even the well plowed plots of asphalt were covered in a couple of inches. soon the sun went down and we couldn't see anything at all. we finished the pizza and walked a couple turns around the atrium. when we got tired, we cleared an area of carpet of furniture and set out a thick blanket featuring the logo of the canadian football team we used to sponsor. my father came out a little later with his hair uncombed. he brought his own blanket and settled in a ways away. when i woke up in the morning the norwegians were gone, but one of them left a hat. i took it with me when i went out.