Spotless

Miller mumbled his way through the evening, his room now in a state acceptable of a man of power.

The door to the room clashed with noise however not decibel of sound rang through the wood, not a knock, not a word.

The room was spotless, almost sparkling perhaps.

Millers eyes slowly opened, the sandcastles built upon the crevasses slowly washed away by the moisture of a tsunami, he grumbled again and held his head.

He squinted his eyes and drank a glass of water that was placed upon the table.

The water sailed down his throat and he released a burp capable of uprooting a tree, he raised his head, it now laid upon his back and his angle gave a perfect viewing of the ceiling.