PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson
Chris leaned back with a sigh of contentment. Dante lay on the bed, groaning. Jay, on the floor. The hotel room was a wreak; not torn apart, just a constant scattering of things here to there.
“Good pizza,” Jay managed, saxophone laid beside him.
“Piss off, Chris. If I eat more, I’ll explode. What then, huh?”
Dante grunted in agreement.
Chris sipped his wine, pleasantly buzzed.
“Where are we?” Jay asked.
“Frick if I know. Somewhere with good pizza.”
Chris snorted, finished his wine. Touring was hell, but he’d never been happier.