The Elephant Room

As the heavy door clicks quietly shut, the familiar scent of a hotel room embraces me. Keycard goes in, ambient lights come on and I suddenly notice that I have a new friend staying with me. Sitting on the bed, with an upturned trunk, is a sweet little elephant fashioned from various towels. I chuckle. He looks so happy with his floppy ears and stick-on eyes.
My bag plops down next to the desk and I fall onto the bed - it is soft and clean and white. There is a moment where everything seems to stand still.
I decide to do what I always do when I check into a new room: eye-up the shower. A smile creeps across my face as I spot the large Monsoon head glistening high on the freshly painted ceiling. I can’t wait to try it out.
The little bottles of shower gel and shampoo sit on the side and I unwrap the tiny bar of woody-spicy soap. There is something lovely about all the little things found in a hotel room - they make me feel warm and fuzzy, a kind of home away from home.
Back on the bed, I look at my towel friend and wonder how one would even begin to create such a thing. For a second, I think about deconstructing it to see how it is done. But I stop myself. I want to enjoy this moment a little while longer, to float in the peace.
And the last thing I see before I close my eyes is him staring back at me. I snuggle closer, my breathing slows down and I feel myself drift off into a beautiful dreamless sleep.