Did we go to Boston twice or did all this happen in one trip? I remember two different rooms but we used to change hotels all the time, just to feel like criminals. Once we stayed in an old converted jail. That was the time I walked all the way back from the bar in my heels. That night he left in a cab with two men from his work and all my stuff in his pockets. I thought a clutch would ruin the line of my arm in photos. I don’t even know what we were fighting about. Something about brunch, and how somehow it was blackmail when I said, I’ve never tried Eggs Benedict before. When I got back to the room it was empty but it felt so good to take my shoes off that I swore up and down I preferred this feeling of relief to the feeling of never having blisters in the first place. I ate the pizza and passed out in my dress and when I woke up there was Eggs Benedict on a silver cart beside my bed. I ate it in bed with a coke from the mini bar, rubbing Polysporin onto my feet.