Rockford New York, Part 2 My hangover in the morning was a small one. Ruth was gone and James was still asleep. At some point in the night he'd taken off his shirt and rolled over onto his back. His hands were clasped around his belly, which swelled with each breath, then deflated as the air whistled out his nose. It looked like a separate organism, a hairy beast resting on a slender man. It gurgled.The shower was running, solving the mystery of the missing Ruth. I texted her, “Gone for coffee. Hope they have a complimentary continental breakfast. Join me?”A dining room was attached to the hotel lobby. Six cheap tables were scattered across a beige room with purple-and-green speckled carpeting. Two vending machines and an ice machine flanked a long table with an off-green tablecloth. The staff had set up a perfunctory breakfast: two canisters of coffee and trays of scrambled eggs, bacon, and croissants. An elderly man in a tattered sports coat sat at the far table, watching Common Sense on an ancient LCD TV.On its screen, the CEO of Liberty Bell was hosting a press conference.
