You are in a motel room...
(Set a Timer for 15 minutes, and write non-stop.)
It was a long, tiring, day, today...
A 20 mile bike ride in the foothills, then dinner, and a movie.
I got back to my motel room at 9pm, showered, and now sit on the edge of the bed packing my bags, preparing to leave the next morning.
It's a small room, with dreary pale green walls, a small desk next to the bed, and a TV in case I want to catch up on the news.
I pick up, and thumb through the old, worn, copy of the Gideon Bible and, looking at my watch, realize it's 11 pm, and so lay down, flat on my back, to try to get some sleep.
I lay staring at the ceiling, and gradually fall asleep, a fitful state in which I see myself standing on a platform next to a river, a sign by the side of the nearby road reads, "Welcome to Sticks! Prepare to be transported!"
Just as I begin to wonder about the ticket I hold in my hands, and a boat approaches, I wake up to the alarm clock in my room.
It's 5am, and time for me to check out.
I gather my suitcase, open the door to my room, and step out...to find myself standing on a platform next to a river, with a sign near the entrance reqding, "Welcome to The River Styx! Prepare to be Transported!"
I look behind me, in the fog bound darkness, but the door to my motel room is not there.
As I face back to the river a boat approaches, paddled by a man in a dark, hooded, robe.
He looks solemnly at me, and says, "Welcome aboard, Sir, let me punch your ticket. Just set your suitcase under your seat, and make yourself comfortable, it's time for you to check out."