[For Anthony] Grasping for certainty in an uncertain future
It had taken weeks of work. There'd been building the furniture, figuring out how to make colours, spending hours wandering about the jungle looking for the right plants to make stains. And then actually making them, mashing plants and berries, simmering them to the right concentration, adding fixatives. Finally, he'd come up with some basic designs, nothing fancy--he knew he wasn't a painter. Debbie'd done the sewing for him, thank God, so he now had cushions on the chairs, curtains in the windows, placemats on the table, and even a somewhat lumpy mattress on the bed.
He'd walked through the three small rooms a half-dozen times, nervously shifting furniture, arranging the few books he'd brought here on the shelf, tugging at the curtains to make certain they were hanging straight. Finally he took a deep breath and walked to the cave, eyes wide and bright with excitement and anxiety as he went in search of Anthony to show him what he'd done for them.
He'd walked through the three small rooms a half-dozen times, nervously shifting furniture, arranging the few books he'd brought here on the shelf, tugging at the curtains to make certain they were hanging straight. Finally he took a deep breath and walked to the cave, eyes wide and bright with excitement and anxiety as he went in search of Anthony to show him what he'd done for them.