The room was perfect.
josh
It was exactly forty square metres. Not much, but plenty of space to fit her small number of possessions. She imagined a small dining table for two, an elegant coat stand and a low queen-sized bed. The thoughtful minimalism would delight and awe her future guests, and she swelled with pride.
“I’ll take it.” She announced to the universe, surprising herself with her own gumption. This must be what becoming a grown up truly feels like, she thought.
The next few months played out exactly as she’d imagined - hanging pictures and constructing flat pack furniture and eating more takeaways than she could really afford before finding that perfect roasting dish. Life was as perfect as the room.
One night when she was watching TV, she noticed dust falling from the corner of the room. She looked up to the ceiling where a perfect circle had been carved out. A single eye blinked.
“You’ve made it real nice.” A gravelly voice muttered, she could feel the smarmy smile that followed. She didn’t scream.
“Thanks.” She replied, simply. A show off she had always been, a performer who demanded the eye. Now she had one focused solely on her, it felt perfect.