A quiet island

Hill is lying in bed, awake, his eyes open. The room is pitch black, silent. Hill feels cold and pulls the extra blankets up from the bottom of the bed until they cover his neck and the lower half of his face. He can hear himself breathing. The floorboards on the landing creak intermittently. Hill pulls the blankets down a little so that they’re not itchy on his face. He looks at the digital alarm clock on the shelf above the washbasin and it reads 01:45.

Suitcase, Hill thinks.

Leave until return flight, Hill thinks.

Ashely Graham Instagram Presence, Hill thinks.

Hill sighs and moves his hand down his pyjama bottoms towards his penis.

The bedroom is directly opposite Roger’s room, and although his door is tightly shut, Hill can hear Roger coughing, intermittently moaning, mumbling to himself.

Hill sighs and moves his hand out of his pyjama bottoms.

Do not look at your phone, do not pick up your phone, Hill thinks.

Roger starts coughing again, then moaning, this time more intensely and for longer.

Hill? Roger says, straining, sounding in moderate discomfort.

Hill closes his eyes, holds his breath, and repeats A Quiet Island, slowly and deliberately, until he falls asleep.