Never Seen Anything Quite Like You Too (A The Script Fan-fiction)

5) Tinkering about

Siena's POV:

The bird and the lion painting sold today, despite the horrendous weather, and I made £60 altogether. A fine achievement although i must admit i was a little resentful about letting them go.

Around five o'clock i decide to pack up my little market hut and take the short walk back to my studio where i lay the rest of the paintings to sleep and rinsed my travel mug out.

I then braved the cold for the last time today as i walked the few blocks between my house and the studio.

Once inside i placed my keys on the kitchen side. Though completely functional, my kitchen must be the loneliest room in my house. I have never been much of a chef, although when the stars are aligned just right I have been known to ticker around a bit in the kitchen. My repertoire of dishes is few so whenever this happens, I try not to deviate from that tried and often rocky path. The kitchen has dark brown cabinets with two double doors. These cabinets are filled with dishes, cups and bowls on one side and spices along with a box of assorted celestial seasons tea and two boxes of assorted individual packs of oatmeal on the other. To the right, below the cabinet doors is the sink, there are generally dirty dishes in the sink just begging to be washed. Which I shall get on to doing. The sink is surrounded by a forlorn stove to the left and a dish rack to the right. The frequently used white refrigerator is located about 10 inches in front of the dish rack and stands next to the microwave rack, which houses a black microwave and a biscuit colored convectional oven. Right in front of the rack is a six chair, black dining room table with gold trimmings. The white and black stove is generally clean, but always seems to be covered with blankets of empty bowls and the occasional pot or two. So I guess I really do make use of it, even though it rains in the UK more often than I actually cook, you can't discredit its ability to double as a table. On the, off white coloured, wall between the cabinets and refrigerator hangs a smoke detector and the receiver for my wireless doorbell. The kitchen itself is actually apart of one big room which runs right into the living room. I shop for groceries about once every month. The items I choose are generally the same; a lot of orange juice, if it's on sale, soda, snacks and water. I will also get instant oats and frozen waffles if my stash in my kitchen has been depleted. The only time that I will buy meats is if I have made up my mind that I am going to attempt to make something that little bit fancier. That or if my parents are coming around and i want to impress them with my non-exsistent culinary skills.

After washing those dishes i decided to take an early night and head up to my bedroom. Plain white walls, broken only by three coloured squares on one side. A big red bed lies lazily in the middle of that wall and waits. Behind the mirrored slidey doors stands the shelves: once full of colour and clothes. Now they wait, redundant. A box sits in the corner full of childhood memorabelia - nothing more recent.

Mother decided she wanted to buy me a kingsized bed for my bedroom. I protested; I have near enough always been alone. I guess i do not know how to live with anyone but my parents. My mother said and i quote 'You never know when you're going to need the extra space' and then added a wink. Thanks for the encouragement mum!

With these thoughts i changed out of my everyday clothes and into my night apparel. I then drifted off into sleep.