Room 218; Tuesday Afternoon.
Sitting on her bed, legs folded in what she found to be aesthetically pleasing angles, but that most people might find painful or awkward, Adah sat on her bed, a Homeric volume open in her lap, but being dully ignored. She seemed to have no attention span for Homer today. Instead, the distraction came too easily from the shapes on her wall, her fingers moving to trace along the bold parelellograms of the flower petals, the distracting curls of stems. The artist kid had actually done a really nice job with the textures of green in the leaves; she touched the wall and actually was disappointed to feel the cold plaster of the wall instead of the warm, artificial-like waxiness of actual jungle leaves.
Odd. Feeling homesick for a place that wasn't even home for the majority of her life. But Adah missed closing her eyes and hearing the world breath.
[[ door and post are open, although might be a bit SPish thanks to work later on and, in not to long some shopping ]]
Odd. Feeling homesick for a place that wasn't even home for the majority of her life. But Adah missed closing her eyes and hearing the world breath.
[[ door and post are open, although might be a bit SPish thanks to work later on and, in not to long some shopping ]]