Aleksandr went into his closet and pulled out another pair of sheets.  He could not remember the last time he had actually changed his sheets. Maybe the last time he had gotten a bloody nose...  He made a hesitant, sheepish smile to himself and left his closet.  He plopped the bedding on the solo desk in his room and began stripping his bed of its garments. His body stretched over the bed, tugging at the sheets.  He probably needed a shower after Sylvia was done.

After the sheets had all been pulled from the bed, he turned to his desk and grabbed the clean sheets, spreading them over the bed nicely.  He fluffed his pillow and pulled the comforter from the floor, deciding to put it on the bed, too--at least for appearances. He grimaced at his room.  He began picking up his books and stacking them on his desk.  He didn't have a bookshelf, yet, and he wasn't sure he was really planning on getting one.  His floor had been doing just fine; however, a wheelchair maneuvering around the small room littered with books would not be very easy.

As he finished stacking the books, he sat in the chair in front of his desk. The smell of soup was still in the air--which likely meant his father was occupied eating, and Sylvia was taking a bath. A slight temptation slithered through his mind as he sat silently, contemplating everything. He relaxed his shoulders and leaned back in the plastic chair. [@Arista]