The walls were still not painted, he saw,
the floor was still not refinished or sanded,
and the window had yet to be replaced.
But where the camp bed had sufficed
for her to sleep inside her sleeping bag,
a real and blessedly normal bed stood.
A floor lamp stood next to it,
and a box served as a temporary bedside table
with a clock and a glass of water upon it.
But the only point was the bed itself,
and it was large,
not king-sized
but more than enough
for two people to sleep quite comfortably in it.
Together.
Elizabeth George, A Banquet of Consequences
On my easel
