Cultivator in a Zombie Apocalypse

Chapter One Hundred and Eighteen - Patrick's Nest

First floor, third bedroom facing the expansive views of a snowed in rear garden, there were two single beds either side of the door and pressed into the corners furthest from the two windows.  There was a clear style clash within this room, representing the personalities of the two individuals that slept there.  One side was arranged simply, almost coldly; the high raised divan bed with drawers had a plain unzipped sleeping bag covering whatever duvet and unfitting cover hidden beneath, there was a side table holding a water bottle and just less than half of the chest of drawers nesting between the windows was clear of clutter with the exception of a small bottle of scented spray.

The other side of the room, however, was a mess of clutter and colour almost managing to represent a nest in the small space.  From the ceiling hung patchwork curtains that surrounded and hid the single bed draping around it, the stitches of which seemed varied as if an uncertain and amateur hand developed skill as patches were added and the curtains grew.  The curtains hung from a single pole attached to the ceiling and following the central line of the bed and draped both ways to snugly encapsulate the low bed, shielding the occupant from draughts (pronoun. Draft).  Besides the bed was a bedside cabinet.  One of the drawers was still slightly open revealing a tangled mess of threads and scraps of cloth, while on the cabinet, apart from a bottle of water and a colourful mug with a cat on it, also had a pin box, the sponge lid of which was covered in pins.

A colourful rug covered the oatmeal carpet on this side of the room on which were a pair of blue slippers filled with soft fluff.  A pair of discarded underwear had managed to find themselves covering the left slipper as well as a single sock.  On the half of the chest of drawers (or slightly more than) closest to this bed was an array of bottles and tubs, which seemed arranged without any particular idea in mind, except that the ones pushed to occupy a bit of the neater side of the area were dusty as if not touched for a long while.  The pair to the abandoned sock could be found hanging from the handle of the top most drawer.

In this room, only the curtains draping over the windows were the same both sides.

Movement came first from the occupier of the plain, 'minimalist' side of the room.  The thick duvet and sleeping bag were tossed aside to reveal a man whose robust, muscular body matched his decent height.  The rich toned skin blended in to the darkness of the room, but the leisurewear that substituted for pyjamas were visible to the eye despite the lack of light.  The mattress creaked slightly with the repositioning of the man's weight and again as he pushed himself upwards to grab at one of the two dressing gowns hanging from the inside of the door.  It didn't reach his knees but it was still an extra welcome barrier against the chill of the room.

He peered over at the nest opposite and wondered if the space inside of the curtains was all that much warmer.  But he scratched through the wiry fro developing on his head reconsidering the notion.  He didn't sleep badly nor was overly disturbed by the cold while beneath his blankets, it was just those few moments leaving the developed warmth of his bed and adding extra layers over his body that was bitter.  Even Patrick would have to experience that when he finally crawled from his eyesore of a haven.

This the little man knew, which was why, when he heard his roommate and friend, Harry, rising from his bed, he did not do the same.  Instead, he snuggled in deeper to his covers.  These were not as patchwork as his curtains, which originally he'd begun making as a way of practicing his poor hand sewing skills and which were from worn out cushion covers; the inner contents of which had been stuffed into sleeping bags, coats and such.   Instead, he used a single duvet and many, many fleece blankets.  He did prefer to be warm.

Eventually, as the dawn light began to peer through the windows and sneak around the curtains covering them, Patrick's stomach refused to be denied any longer.  With a soft groan of complaint, he reached down to the floor to the rough place he recalled placing his fluffy slippers, lifting up the hem of the curtain just enough to drag them beneath it.  These wouldn't help him completely overcome the expectant suffering to come, but at least his toes would remain warm!  It should be mentioned, he was wearing a thick pair of bed socks.