When You Are Engulfed in Flames

by David Sedaris

Whatever drives the likes of April is private and severe, and my attempts to humanize it only moved me further from its majesty.

It doesn’t have a pool, yet still the lobby smells like chlorine, with just a slight trace of French fries. Should you order the latter off the room service menu, and find yourself in need of more ketchup, just wipe some off your telephone, or off the knob to the wall-mounted heating and air-conditioning unit.