a room of my own

 

The room could use a bit of cleaning. Dust accumulated at the edges of the shelves and the corners of the floor. A spot of dirt on the lower part of the wall where a dog bed sits. A faint aroma, musty, perhaps of dogs, hanging in the air. Through the open windows, however, a nice breeze comes in and lace curtains swirl, catching a glimpse of bright blue sky, lush green and vivid red flowers.
The only place where you see some trace of action is the desk. A laptop dictates in the middle. Pens and pencils crammed in a box. Scattered papers with scribbles. Dictionaries and books piled up in no particular order.
Who lives here? Perhaps, a single guy. There are no feminine ornament or furnishings. Aha! There are pictures of them on the wall next to the desk. Awww, they seem like a nice couple.

 

 

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Clean Slate.”
“Explore the room you’re in as if you’re seeing it for the first time. Pretend you know nothing. What do you see? Who is the person who lives there?”

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