Reading English
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Young Adult (18-35)Accents
Armenian North American (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
Tom trying to catch air with his mouth open. But nope, it wasn't working. Frank had always had that effect, somehow robbing the space between them of oxygen messages fired a long time synapses, most of them still coated. By the time they hit the cortex, his brain wanted to skip back forward and a little sideways. It was a freaking merry go round in there, and his mouth was still open. He could taste the musty atmosphere of the lodge on his tongue. He known Frank and his sister were coming up this weekend, but now that the reality of it stood in front of him, Tom found himself unable to cope. Oh, my God, it's frank. Verbose as ever. I see. Frank said words. He needed words. Ah, good start now say something sensible. You're here, obviously, on foot, no less. I don't suppose you have any dry towels. And what is that smell? Damp. Frank's brow creased with this pleasure? Yes, I am. Rather, I meant the smell for someone who resembled an overdressed honor. Frank smelled pretty good, like cedar and birch. He looked pretty good to age, had sharpened his features, banishing the smiling boy with pink, freckled cheeks and riotous orange curls. This frank, this older, wetter, not smiling Frank was taller, slimmer, serious and really, really wet. Towel Tom sounded like an idiot. Not talking at all would be better getting you a towel. He abandoned the dimly lit lobby, navigating the hallway by memory and the square of light from the open office door. The power had failed about an hour before, and with no guests in residents, Tom had started only one generator. There was no need to have the place lit up like the Fourth of July, when there wasn't anyone here to appreciate it. He groped for the darkness past several closed doors until he reached the laundry, where he stepped from gloom to no light at all and felt his way along the shelves until he located a stack of towels. Leaning forward, he gave a quick sniff, hoping the dank atmosphere of the love he had and penetrated this far. God was the roof leaking. He'd have to check all the guest rooms in the morning, light pierced the darkness, flinching. Tom turned and made out Frank's shape behind an illuminated cell phone. He watched his Frank reached for the light switch and flipped it up and down. Why is there no power in here? He asked. I can hear a generator. It was meant to be just me tonight. So I only started one of them. I can connect a few more circuits if you want. What I want is a gun Damn towel And to know what you're doing here.