A buzzing black t.v. rests on a wooden oak table as it flickers with the mixed scenes that take turns playing in the background. Every now and again a crack or creak is heard from the glass center of the table as it adjusts itself against the wooden corners and black metal legs that support it. A blue mechanical pencil yells out into the noise filled room with every scratch and scrawl it makes on the blank white paper in front of it, waiting to be filled with the varying sdsdshades, dark and light gray lines, waiting to be filled with the loops and curves and squiggles that were meant to dance upon the blank white canvas. The old bed creaks with every slight shift and the white covers with a gray patterned design of loops and swirls, a design the paper hopes will become it’s own, continue to be thrown and folded and wrinkled about with each movement made in an attempt to be more comfortable. 

An unattended phone left on the charger next to the bed buzzes every so often with a notification of no importance, only to be ignored for something far more entertaining such as the t.v. or now half filled paper. The plain white fan sits in wait above everything, waiting to be asked for it’s shiny whooshing blades to be put to use once the room is judged to be too hot. To the side of the room lies the abandoned closet, behind the half opened door it reveals that it holds two shirts and a faded sweater that have, like the closet, been long left behind. By its feet lie a dirtied and flat volleyball that hasn’t been touched for months on top of the empty van shoe box graves that are piled high. To the right behind the closed portion of the closet hides the likewise abandoned stuffed animals who without play have long-lost any life they may have had and lay strewn about piled on one another in hope that one day another little girl will come and bring them back to life.

A fluffy, dirtied, white rug is sprawled across the floor in a failed attempt at decoration, it relates to the corkboard of polaroid pictures from long forgotten dream of photography and the plastic green plant covered in dust that sits on the corner of the table next to the still flickering t.v.; the rug relates to the corkboard and plant’s failure to bring the room any closer to acceptably decorated. The table next to the bed holds a drawer where all the old trinkets and gadgets lie, the ones that were collected over the years but were never actually put to use and were considered trash the moment they set foot into the drawer.

In the wooden cubed shelves that sit against the wall by the closet are pockets of the few items actually found useful in the room. A small black purse meant for carrying money and mints is propped up in the third hole down, sitting around it is a large black and gray bag used to pack items for one night stays or bringing someone else items they forgot at a stay they had in this bland room, by the bag is a beautiful cross necklace never worn out of the house in fear of losing or breaking it. Along the top shelf is where the most useful items sit, a tube of blue chapstick remains in the front as it is the prized item, the most used thing in the shelf, possibly in the entire room, dark cherry incense sits behind it along with a long black and red lighter ready to share it’s scent with the room at any moment it may be asked to. The rest of the shelves hold pants and shirts to serve as a fast means of getting clothing. The articles lay scattered about in each of their assigned cubbies waiting to be picked, worn, and thrown into the blue basket found in the corner of the room that is meant for the items that  were chosen after their being used, then to be washed, and set on the shelf to repeat the process.