There was not much wrong with the room aesthetically; just that it was cold and bare. The walls, despite being shiny in places from the omniscient glow of a nearing light bulb, were empty. Never adorned with any pictures or posters they were untouched by ornaments and character. There was however, a single nail hanging out of the largest wall, as if it once wore life before its dormant state.
In an attempt to brighten the place up there was a small, single palm tree placed on an iron table in the corner of the room. In actual fact it gave off quite the opposite effect. It wore crisp, browning leaves that wept whilst its body bent at a curve in search of sunlight. Isolated and starved it sat there, far from appeasing its intention but beautiful in its irony.
The furniture shared the same sense of solitude; just two odd fabric settees. One was stripped of it’s cover and backed tight against a wall, and the other cloaked in brown separating the dining area. Neither were pristine enough to look too uninviting, nor were they worn to the degree in which they looked comfortable. The carpet below was speckled in such a way that gave it no dominant colour, made up of patches of beige and grey. It wasn’t pretty but it wasn’t offensive. It was warm beneath my feet, and cushioned just so that the floorboards beneath did not creak under pressure.
By day, the light the tree longed for peaked through the patio doors, framed by thin white voiles that fell softly at each side. Opening outwards to the world outside the doors relinquished an element of sadness sometimes felt when sitting in a room so small and empty. It may not have been much, but it was home.
Prompt #1: Describe a room in your house