alasia

the hotel

KASSIE POV

The hotel itself is huge. Large ornate stair cases spiral up the center of the building leading up to a sky light far up above. There are hanging greens that pool over the brim of the balconies, and lights that linger just out of eyesight. My neck hurts from how far up I'm looking as my attention is drawn back to the front desk. We have each picked our own room mates, those who could not decide have been numbered off and pushed together.

Kally and I carry our bags, and newly acquired packs (from the school) to the elevator.
Passing floor after floor surrounded in glass, my eyes have a chance to overlook the city. The farther up I get, the farther my view is.
The sun is painting the dawn. There is fog creeping outside of the forcefield. It's breathtaking.
But just then the elevator halts and we both step out into a bare, white hallway. My heart thuds loudly in my chest. This hotel is famous for its' rooms. Each of them individualized and intricate.

The room Kally and I are staying in has a large glass floor underneath which holds thousands of cherry red fish. I realize in shock it is a holographic image that is projected. It traces circles around our feet as we walk, ocean waves undulating on the ceiling. The window is large, two large deep navy curtains pulled back to essentuate the large paneled view we get of the city. It looks mysterious, exciting, and new from up here. It is so different from my world with my mother.
The members of council live in the council building itself. The head of council lives in the pent house, and the descending members of council take the rooms below that. I've never experienced want, but with a pang of guilt my eyes shift to Kally.
Her frame is frozen looking out of the window. Motionless, her eyes say what her lips cannot.
Her family never made enough for her to see the world from this steep angle.
Slowly I watch her body shift towards the window, her hands slowly wrapping around her arms. It must be a lot to take in.
"You never realize how big it is, until you're up here," She says softly. "It's breathtaking."
The sun is painting pictures on reflective glass, the egg shaped cars are turning back into their white forms instead of their technicolor glow in the dark Hughes they carry during the night time. It is breathtaking.
Harsh, and breathtaking. But harder to breath up here.
Claustrophobic. This is the place where that feeling presses on my lungs. Where the air is thinner. Where expectations weigh me down and remind me of the future to come.