Heartbreak Hotel by Demetria Dawn
There is something disturbingly comforting about the temporary nature of hotel
How each visit is the opposite of a promise, fleeting moments not to be taken
seriously. How a person can be present one day and then gone the next, each
numbered stay is a contradiction of permanence, a reassuring uncertainty of the
They all check in with high hopes and check out with pitiful promises, commitment
issues akin to midnight ventures from hearts that no longer beat for love.
Lonely, idle souls booking double occupancies in advance. Overstaying affairs and
under-staying welcomes. Restless sleeping, mindless dreaming of faceless,
nameless strangers within four walls.
The feeling of loneliness becomes a comfort. Isolated hearts seeking room service—
desperate to loan important amenities such as emotional availability.
Honesty becomes a liability, excavated from harrowed hearts in exchange for
No shows are non-existent, residents religiously present at their profligate
rendezvous. Walk-in guests, leisure travellers or corporate clients, self-checking in
with their late night endeavours.
The porter escorts the guests with heavy hearts locked in luggages. He is tipped
generously in exchange for a silence that does not belong to him. With suitcases
secured shut, his lips are sealed with them.
The housekeeper tends to the homewrecking secrets and keeps them hidden in
between the linen, tucked under pillowcases and concealed in duvet covers. She
strips the sheets from the bed the next morning, a laundry of lies, to be washed off in
The concierge knows of the clandestine affairs. Folios of intimacies from guests are
logged in blanket reservations, long term accommodation discounted at a price—
complimentary of broken hearts.
It’s a five-star hotel and scandalously so. Covetous business bodies with their
corporate promises and white-collar lies, they profit from bad habits and bleeding
There’s a method to the madness, a system for the spellbound sanity. Walls do have
ears and they do more than listen. They talk in tandem and sell your secrets.
“Sorry, no vacancies.”
Demetria Dawn is a British-Filipino writer based in London, England. A lover of modern art and classic literature, her written works are inspired by angsty nuances and chaotic infatuations of the everyday. Twitter: @ddtuzara Instagram: @ddtuzara Attachments area