O.K.

Three a.m. Only two hours until she had to leave.
His snoring was deafening. The weight of his arm, unforgiving.
Looking around, she sighed. The walls were stained with patches of an unbecoming, reddish sepia. Like paan juice, she thought.
The creaking fan caught her attention. Ironically, it had O.K. stamped on it. She winced.