𝐋𝐔𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐒. ᵒᵘᵗᵉʳ ᵇᵃⁿᵏˢ ¹

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 02.

The paintings on the walls of oceans, flowers, and landscapes caught my eyes, and reminded me of the artwork my parents used to have on our walls back in the apartment. There was a short antique brown cabinet right at the centre of the first wall, a few small hand-made pots and vases of flowers on it's surface. To my left there was a wall lined with many open windows covered with thin and used blinds, a deep red futon sofa, and a few mixed-matched coloured armchairs around an old coffee table.

The kitchen, was an open space. The counters seemed worn out and quite used, and the wooden cupboards were placed high above them, some open and some shut closed. A small round table sat against the wall next to the door, with a few lonely newspapers, magazines, and empty cups laying on top of it's sleek off-white tablecloth. Three matching chairs sat empty around the table, small coloured cushions on them.

I found myself smiling as I looked around at the surroundings. Everything around portrayed such a new and different feeling than the usual black-and-white, squeaky clean, perfectly modern New York apartment. I liked it, a lot, even though Mother would probably scream her lungs out if she saw me eating at a stained dinner table filled with newspapers.

"Home sweet home," Caroline announced, as she entered the house behind me. Her hand landed on my shoulder, and I already knew she was grinning. "Your bedroom is down that hall, on the right," she tapped my shoulder.

I bent down and slid off my shoes, picking them up to place them next to each other perfectly, beside the front door. I heard Caroline let out a small laugh.

Then, I couldn't refrain from skipping towards the hallway. I didn't care if it didn't look like my perfect room back in New York, had a walk-in closet or a city view, I just wanted to be able to see the water. And that's exactly what it was.

Right when I opened the door, the first thing I saw was the wide window, looking straight out at the water and the boat. There were thin blinds pulled up halfway.

It was small, but I suddenly didn't mind. The bed was a double, and had a few, seemingly new, quilted blankets on the end. There was an old wooden desk in the far corner, and a used pin board on the wall in front of it with old pictures and papers attached with colored thumbtacks. A chair identical to the three in the kitchen was in front of the desk, a plush yellow cushion on the seat of it.

To the left there was a sliding door, already half-open to reveal a small closet. There were two sweaters hanging up inside on silver hangers, and an empty cardboard box on the carpet floor beneath a shoe-rack. The walls of the room seemed to be newly painted with a fresh pale-yellow colour, my favorite, which made me smile from ear-to-ear.

A glistening full length mirror was pinned up on the wall next to the window. I looked at my clothes in the reflection, and suddenly realized they didn't quite match everything else. I barely noticed that I'd been sweating in the skinny jeans I was wearing.

A long, content sigh fell past my lips when I moved and sat down on the bed. It was decorated with yellow and pink throw pillows, and the quilted blankets. It was much different from my white bed back home, contrasting in size and range of colour.

"This was your dad's old room," Caroline appeared in the doorway, leaning on it. She looked around the space with an expression of gratitude, and a slight sadness.

"He had pastel yellow walls and pink pillows?" I laughed, delicately.

"No, no," Caroline smiled to me. "Daryl and I painted this last week. Your mom's assistant lady, forget her name, uh told us you liked yellow," she said, looking to the walls. "It used to be navy blue, but we fixed it up. Also made those quilts for you."