One day, I was talking to Sindy when we were throwing out the trash. The wind had picked up. We sat for a bit between the dumpster and the wall. She had a joint which she had lifted from one of the guests. She said she can sneak one into her bikini line sometimes. She tells guests, “maybe it blew away”. She tries not to do it often enough to be noticed. Once she was told to swim before she had a chance to smoke it, losing her prize.
I mentioned something about how the men talk like they own the world, but they are only twenty five.
She said, “They look young, but they can’t be twenty five. I’ve been here for ten years and they haven’t aged any. It’s the same men that have been here all along. A few new ones show up but no one leaves. The slave women vanish faster than the guests.”
I was rather astonished. How could anyone live at a resort for ten years or more? I guess if given the choice, maybe some rich retirees live in resorts. Even then, you’d think they would change scenery and locations. Why stay in one place? The way they talk about the world they have obviously enjoyed traveling. This place is not that interesting.
I did not get to finish the conversation to find out more. We had to go back before we were noticed missing and I was so high. The weed was very strong. My mind was trying to process what she said. How could it be they don’t age. Why live here? What is going on? Why do I have anxiety when I think about it?
