The suffocating room is shrouded in a dreary ambiance emitted by a bare lamp resting on the plush carpet. The walls are concealed by piles of paintings, completed and incomplete, towering up to the ceiling. Every available space on the tables and chairs is consumed, leaving no room to sit.
“Hey Sal, would you like to take a seat? I don't have much, but I'd like to show some courtesy.” With hands that bear the marks of time, Doug firmly adjusts his glasses on his face. The wrinkles on his skin are dry and visible, a testament to his many years.
Sal glances around the busy room and realizes finding a seat might be tough. She wants to make sure Doug doesn't get upset, so she keeps her cool and nonchalantly adjusts the strap of her purse as if it slipped. “Thank you, Doug. I appreciate that, but I'm good standing.”
“Alright, suit yourself. I know this place is a bit cluttered. I've been meaning to clean up, but I've been busy lately.” Doug peers downwards, his chin almost touching his chest while his glasses precariously slide down his nose.
“No worries, Doug. I understand. It's your space, and you can keep it how you like.”
With a sense of relief, Doug gazes upwards, free from the weight of judgment. A bright smile crosses his face, revealing his unnaturally gleaming dentures. “Thanks for understanding. Speaking of this space, I'm actually trying to sell one of my paintings to help with rent this month. Would you like to take a look?”
“Sure, I'd love to see it.”
“Great, let me show you around the room. It's a bit of a mess, but I hope you'll find something you like.”
“Of course, Doug. I'm sure it'll be beautiful.”