#9

there is an old thrift store couch. It is worn and comfortable. A glass lies on the end table- leftover from the night before. behind the glass is a picture frame. a boy and girl have their arms resting lazily across each other's shoulders and they are grinning widely. their skin is tan from summer and they are both squinting slightly- because of sunlight or because their smiles are so big.
it is a comfortable room and the window is covered by an Oriental green shade- it looks like a remnant piece from the Walmart discount fabric bin. but still... it is comfortable.
a note lies on the coffee table. the blue pen it was written with is teetering treacherously on the edge of the table, ready to fall at the slightest nudge.
the carpet still has lines running through it from a recent vacuuming. the whole room is comforting, not too new or too dirty or too formal. nothing matches very well, everything has color- it is bleeding in from the sunlight through the blinds, it still clings to the faded couch, it runs in circles over the glass frame of the clock... it is late afternoon and no one is home.
a few spots on the wall are pockmarked from old nails. the wall hangings are sporadic and unique. thrift store treasures maybe, or gifts from friends. they don't look new, but they are nice.
it is warm, and it is worn, and it is home.