The furniture in Rachel’s new flat was mismatched; a combination of furniture that Harley had rescued from Imogene’s house. The white leather sofa, for instance, sat next to an arm chair he’d found on his way from work. The desk from Rachel’s old room was letting all its ergonomic potential go to waste as it was being used as a dinner table, but since they never ate at the table it had turned into a kitchen-storage area. Rachel had her old bed, which took up most of her tiny room, but no storage to put anything, so her clothes were in banana boxes under the bed. All of the curtains were falling apart, leftovers from the previous tenants. The toilet was avocado and permanently stained, the seat was peeling.
Rachel spent a lot of time on the white leather couch which was already dirtier than it had ever been. Baked bean juice just didn’t come off if you didn’t really care enough to scrub it.
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Rachel spent a lot of time on the white leather couch which was already dirtier than it had ever been. Baked bean juice just didn’t come off if you didn’t really care enough to scrub it.
( Read more... )