Author: Cincinnati Review

excerpt from “The Watchman” by Thomas Dodson

There’s nothing much wrong with the Bridgeway Motor Court. The carpet in Coleman’s room is dappled with burn marks, and the exterior wall, the one with the windows, has these psychedelic zigzags at the bottom, like somebody’s kid was left to run their crayons back and forth over the same spot, rubbing them down to the nubs. It’s cheap, though, the motel, and there aren’t any bugs.

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