Version 1:

The desk is covered in various books, electronics, and writing utensils. The sturdy drawers of the desk hold everything I might need while working there.

The walls are covered in picture frames and bookshelves, which, though full, feel like they need more books on them.

The bed is disheveled, a long-furred black cat sleeps among the folds of my blankets.

Schedules and reminders are pinned hastily on the corkboard above the desk. The wall space around the board is littered with post-its, which I have scribbled relevant information on; the password to a zoom meeting, grammar rules I can’t seem to retain, and inspirational quotes.

The dresser, covered in books, carries the vase of dried roses from my graduation.

Version 2:

The collection of books and pens layered on the surface of my desk have been parted like the red sea to make space for the laptop I’m writing with.

The bookshelves are present on every wall in the room. Some carry treasures and trophies, but most hold books. You could never convince me that I have enough books. If the shelves are full, I’ll simply add another.

At the centre of the tousled blankets on my bed is one of the cats. Her black fur helping to conceal her in the folds of the dark blanket.

The wall behind the desk is where I’ve hung the board where schedules and reminders are pinned within an eyes glance. Around it are post-its where I’ve scrawled encouraging quotes and useful information.

The books I’ve recently pulled down to admire are spread across the top of the dresser, amidst them are the roses that I’ve dried as a memento of my graduation.

Charlie Smith

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