Christian

Rain flicked the window behind the thin brown curtains that did a weak job of hiding the pale sunlight outside. The guilt Christian usually felt about not relishing in the wonder of the outside world was removed by the comforting rain crackling on the windowsill. Who would want to go out on a day like today, he thought to himself, whilst gently thumbing the material between two wires on his washing basket. The silky polyester creaked against his skin as the wires dug into his thumb around the nail. Each time he squeezed the wires to rub against the netting on the side of the basket, they would slip out his grip and spring back into place. The only thing that swayed his attention from the washing basket was the satisfying way all the books of the same height were lined up on the top bookshelf. This was enough to draw Christian from his chair and for him to walk over to the shelves. When he got there he realised he should formulate a reason why he’d made the journey. He thought it was bad that there were so many half read novels. After picking up one of the less repellent books he saw the book-mark was not as far into the weighty set of pages as he remembered it being so he put it back.