Room.

I came back to find her laying down on the street. Grabbed some whiskey to prepare for the impending hurricane. Cover still on, flapping in the wind. Cursed, went inside to get my leather work gloves. I knew she would be slippery. The smell of gasoline. Leaking out onto the pavement. Uncover her in the rain, fighting with the knot. Pick her 500lbs up, right her, and roll her over to the building. The mirror is bent, and the right turn signal busted. That's why she has crash bars. Go to the store and buy two 3ft lengths of chain and two heavy duty locks. Lean her against the building. Chain her down. She's not going anywhere. I already had a list of repairs. Change the oil and crack open the clutch to check the plates. add this to the tally.

I rode up a little late. At a glance I could see the young woman sitting on the steps behind me. Pull her up and back her against the curb. She's cute, and way too young for me. Straight black hair, tear drawn against her right eye. For all I know she's 18 years old and a day. She shows me into an apartment. It's being renovated. I wanted to see it before the hurricane hit. Drywall dust all over the floor, it's a disaster but when it's finished it would be well worth it. The young woman leads me through the rooms, down the stairs to where my room would be. Then out the back into the yard. She's awfully cute but I can't base it on that. Regardless it's a great deal. An apartment full of young artist types. I can't just give her the money outright. Any young woman with a key. I don't even know her last name. Need some sort of guarantee. In my thoughts I can see the innocent young woman standing in the backyard in front of me. Frail. Gentle. But A man can't be so trusting. In between I'm holed up in the hostel with seven other strangers. They're nice. One is too strange. Wears a Chewbacka jacket and a old man's beard. Too unpredictable and sits off on his own. Hurricane party tonight. Rain isn't that bad but it halts my progress. I fear that if I cross the bridge into Manhattan that the weather will worsen and the bridges will close. Stuck on the island with no way to ride back. Too much to do but the city is closed for business. If this apartment doesn't work out. Back to camping out in my tent. Need to find work. The paychecks are still rolling in but the money won't last forever. In the interim my only adversary is boredom. The hurricane is a whole lot of whimper and not a lot of storm. We sit around the living room with nowhere to go. All of New York holed up. Hiding.