#his panic

[inthewindtunnel]

His Panic

Thrill

[froget-me-nots]

his calm

[tim-lucy]

NO NO NO NO NO NO

[archionblu]

pleasedontpassout

“I… what?” Grigg tries to stifle his panic and send him a smile over his shoulder at the man in the car before he turns back to the lady at the desk. “There’s only… one room.”

  “That’s right,” her accent twangs, it almost grates on Grigg’s nerves if the news itself wasn’t quite so numbing.

  “And there is literally… nothing else.”

  “Young man, if you find another motel willing to take you this late with the convention starting tomorrow, I’ll pay for your room.”

  It couldn’t be that bad. Come on. Not like this. Not when he was driving with the man cross country for a convention. Not when he’d already spent six hours with him in the car. Not this, on top of everything.

  “I just…” he bites his lip and lets out a sigh. Nothing for it really. “We’ll take it. thank you.”

  Perhaps the bed would be big enough for him to curl up in a corner of it and give the man space. He’d suffered sleepovers with his sisters before, surely this wasn’t much different. He accepts the key and slides his Visa over, rubbing his eyes as the lady checks his signature against his I.D.

  Perhaps it won’t even be that bad. Maybe they’ll just sleep quickly, wake up early, and Grigg can accidentally sneak them a booking at a hotel instead, maybe even the one the convention is held in, and then they can have two rooms, ‘courtesy of the company’, and this night will just be forgotten and never spoken of again.

  The rain starts before he even leaves the office, already leaving long streaks over the windshield and forcing him to hike his jacket up over his head so he can jog back to the passenger seat and slide in, looking less like a drowned rat than he could and less like a gentleman than he should.

  “We got a room,” he says weakly.

[9secretsigns]

i mostly avoid "call out culture" but when i come to collect Latinos or "hispanics" who are drinking the Kool Aid, i do it with passion because i don't want anyone standing under the banner which reflects my own name and skin and heart, one i proudly have bled for and will always live holding and hoisting; the banner my family wove with years of tomato juggling, love, sweat and tiny emerald cilantro stitching--my latinidad--and using that as a disguise in this war. stepping around in a disguise that looks like our team and then at the last moment they disrobe and are in enemy gear. i don't see all of life as a war, but in this fight, there is no room for this kind of desertion and sabotage. so i will come for that.