Beige Sheets. And a comforter with texture.
The small closet holds little besides my suits. The bed has space beneath it for clothing, naturally there’s an empty drawer and things strewn about it on the floor.
In the mornings I have so much, too much to pick up off the floor. There are many pillows and I hurl them from the bed during my violent dreams.
The windowsill is home to my watch and her lime green lighter. My ties have a coat hook all to themselves. As do some lighter jackets.
There’s a black, slouchy leather belt draped over a fleece jacket (both mine) and an empty shoebox (hers).
The bottle of Glenlivet 12 belongs to Radowan. The blue hippopotamus coin bank belongs to me.
The nightstand holds cardboard speakers, an iPhone in brown leather, my glasses, and my job researching Hamas.
The windows emit so much more natural light than I ever expect them to. I love the indirect lamp light.
The mirror leaning on the wall next to the bed has a note- “Brb -Oshie”