Short Story by Sarah V.

As I am walking into his room, I see a different color for every wall. Blue, green, purple, and yellow blind me as the sun’s shining rays come through the open window. To my left there is a bed with a happy face backboard and white sheets. The sheets look like one you would find in an army; neat enough to bounce a quarter off them. There is nothing else on his light-colored soft-wood floors. I can not say as much as for those walls. Pictures of him around the world border the middle as if it were a train. Posters of bands, events, and maps are scattered randomly here and there, but there is a bare spot. A door covers this bare spot, and I walk to the right side of the room. As I turn the spotless handle, and once I open it, I find clothes inside. Every color clothes you can imagine neatly folded into tiny cubicles labeled with the correct article. His shoes are covered in mud, though, hard-packed mud that covers the inner walls of the cubicle as well.