as i enter the room, there are two small cardboard boxes filled with a various assortment of Hewlett-Packard and Compaq keyboards. there are packing peanuts scattered on the ugly blue carpet around the area.

the slow rain trills quietly on the black windows. its four thirty a.m. and ive decided to do something im not supposed to do. im only supposed to check if this suite is locked and not enter it.

but ive decided i want to see the view from the eleventh story in the dark rain from over this ugly blue carpet chosen by a company that went bankrupt and disappeared, leaving only the keyboards and packing peanuts.

not sure why i feel the need to do so i place my hands on the window and press up close to the pane so my shadow blocks out the light behind me and i see through the glass more clearly.

im staring out over the parking garages at SeaTac airport. i see tails of planes over the crest of some buildings. there is that one structure, ive never figured out what it is, but at certain times, it pours out a deluge of water, spraying mist above it. it is doing this right now, the mist is cloaking over and intermixing with the rain.

the unending stream of cars in and out of the airport is fast paced even at this time of morning. each of the streetlights reflects down in the rain below it as a solitary dot whose light doesnt seem to diffuse as well as it should on a non-rain slicked surface.

i turn my head for just a moment.

the blue carpet is still here. one of the window blinds is moving slightly and tapping against the glass in one of the two actual private offices in this suite.

i wonder if seeing this view all the time makes it any less surreal and chilling. im not even sure why id call it chilling other than the goose bumps i keep getting all over me.

i want to lean out past the glass and feel the rain.

its at this point that i realize that i wish you were here with me.