Open post!
Fletcher is desperately, desperately homesick. He wants Downbelow, and he wants Pell, and he wants Finity’s End and his cousins, and Melody and Patch. Something familiar, anything familiar. Hell, at this point he could go for the familiar aggravation of legal letters in his mail.
Which is why - for slightly strange values of why - he’s pushed one of the couches near the wall and piled blankets and pillows behind it. There’s a large enough space back there for Fletcher, sprawled out with a college text on cultural anthropology, and probably for more than him, too, if anyone were to investigate the soft noise of his bare feet idly tapping against the wall.
Which is why - for slightly strange values of why - he’s pushed one of the couches near the wall and piled blankets and pillows behind it. There’s a large enough space back there for Fletcher, sprawled out with a college text on cultural anthropology, and probably for more than him, too, if anyone were to investigate the soft noise of his bare feet idly tapping against the wall.