My time away

The first day

We arrived at our destination this morning. It is very nice and extremely hot.
Our hosts seem accommodating if not a little over familiar. They seem to know an awful lot about me and my companion.
We were exhausted after the journey and fell asleep after eating a chicken.

The next day

We went on an excursion to the mountains today, it was very nice. The sun drenched landscape we had become accustomed to gave way to a land of colour, a limited palette, but colour all the same. I was surprised to find this alpine retreat in the middle of the desert.
We ate lunch, I ate a cheeseburger, then began the journey home.
On the walk I saw a wasp vomiting on the side of the road, on closer inspection i could see the the wasp was actually being sick on top of a minuscule ant. I had never seen a wasp being sick before and was surprised by how queasy it had made me feel. Without another thought I was sick a top both the living (but ill) wasp and the dead (murdered) ant.

Another day

Today i saw an abandoned hotel, it was called the 'Hotel Splendid'. I couldn't help but wonder.

A further day

I went to the fridge and took out a can of beer. It was to my great shock and confusion, that when I was closing the fridge door my selected refreshment spoke to me. He spoke clearly and confidently, but disappointingly not in what i had expected to be his native tongue. I presumed a beer domestic to a country would speak in the mother tongue of that country. It was explained to me however that this was very rarely the case.
At great length i was told that it is only compulsory for beer whose name includes or is wholly comprised of a human name to speak the language of its country of origin.
I thanked my beer for this information and allowed myself to pass comment that i thought this to be a little disingenuous.
Anyway, we chatted more as i drank and i was really beginning to enjoy the company of my drink, but i was becoming more cognizant of my growing thirst and my drinking partner's parallel rise in temperature. So i asked, in a veiled sort of way, if he had any last requests.
For a second time he surprised me. He didn't have so much of a last request, more a spoken epitaph, a reason for being, an admittance of love. He began:
"I have been all around the world, working in many different forms and roles, and never have i been touched, drunk or treasured like i have by you. You blow me away! The respect, the tender caress, you complete me. Thank you!"