Bedroom, Window, Street.

The bedroom is tidy. Obsessively so. Regiments of books stand to attention underneath the desk. The laptop on top lies open, no doubt with half-finished coursework glaring out from the screen as a reminder that it needs finishing. Scents, sprays, lotions all neatly line the top of the wardrobe tucked in the corner. A leopard print throw is draped luxuriously over the bed, matching the shoes tucked underneath. A pile of CD’s are stacked to the right of the bed – Bon Jovi, Mötley Crüe, Van Halen, KISS – oh, if only it could be the 80’s again! A small, blue box printed with the Swarovski swan takes pride of place on the shelf facing the bed. Inside, a glistening crystal apple on a delicate silver necklace – a Christmas present from my boyfriend.

Living at the top of a hill certainly has its perks with a view like this. Miniature boats glide across the silvery stroke of blue which lines the horizon. The sunlight glints on the expanse of the tiny rooftops in the distance. More immediately, a cat snoozes on a rickety fence whilst another eyes him up suspiciously from underneath the giant trampoline. The numerous holes in the garden are telling of my dog’s enthusiasm for digging. In the garden adjacent to my own lines of washing relax on the line, there won’t be rain today.

In the street, it’s quiet as is usual for this time of day – the tribe of neighbouring children are at school. In the distance, I can hear the hum of cars passing on the main road. Rows of manicured gardens line both sides of the street. Oddly, I’ve never spoken to the people on the other side of the road. A man, who’s there now, lovingly caresses his car with an old rag, scrutinizing the bonnet for imperfections. He cleans that car every Sunday morning at 8am. With a jet hose. A Staffordshire bull terrier wanders by my garden aimlessly without an owner. Not unusual considering that woman in the next street up is always leaving her door open.

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