Connor eventually put the book he was reading down, and glanced around his room. Over the last few months living here, he had decorated it as he had seen fits. A desk was in one corner, large, filled with paper, notebooks, and his laptop, a lamp sitting on it as well, his bed in an opposite corner. Connor had a TV, but it wasn't set up. He had the ability to make his two minute noodles, with a kettle, not that he had actually touched them in a few days. A star wars poster hang on one wall, a shelf with books on another wall. Tools splattered the floor, clothes thrown in a laundry basket, over flowing. He really should do some washing. The white suit he had received from Anthony was hanging on a hook on his door. He had decided Anthony wasn't getting it back, and would find out how much it cost. He liked it.
He picked up his phone, hesitating. He didn't even know where Kijani was, so not wanting to be too disturbing just in case, he sent a text message to her instead.
hey, feeling better? even though he wanted to ask what had happened, he didn't. Yet couln't he think of anything better to send? He sighed, and sent it anyway.
Then rose, putting the book away, looking around his room again. He frowned. And then set to work as he waited for her reply. He picked up his tools, putting them away in their case, collecting up screws, and other things, shoving them in a draw with others like them, scooping up the clothes in the basket, he went to wash them, and while that was happening, he sorted out his desk, shoving things into folders. They would stay neat for a while, but inevitably would become a mess again. He ran his fingers through his hair, collected his clothes, starting to put them away. His room looked better, at least. He picked up the many two minute noodle packets, and threw them out.
