Hammer and Nails
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HAMMER & NAILS
My room's me. More than any room I've laid claim to before, it's me. After whittling
down the furnishings too sparse to fill out a roomy one-bedroom apartment but far too
bulky to find comfort in my home back at home, I've fit my self into a snug chamber
corner of my mother's rented subplex. "My mother's," not "my parent's." Dad died in
June.
Still, the room's me. The blushy taupe walls are a quiet draw between the sickly sweet
pink floral that preceded them and the unfortunate mauve acrylic carpeting now
underfoot. Dad picked the wall color. He was good at that. Still, the room's me now...