Pretty Penny Writing Prompt 5

Write a first-person descriptive narrative that makes the reader feel as though they’re inside your story with you.

I sat in the corner of the room-if it could even be called a corner. The interior architecture is twenty-first century modern and soft-edged, but not the kind that makes you want to rip out your own eyes. After all, Mr. Yoon had taste. He wouldn’t be caught dead with the ugly white marble ultra-minimalist kitchen style my colleagues are forced to stare at.

This style is earthy, with columns of a vertical curvature reminiscent of the meridian lines running the length of the globe. My friends spoke from a forest green conversational couch piece and the couple of simple wooden chairs seated purposefully under the windows, of which are rounded at the top as if to avoid adding any harshness to the comfort of the room. The beige curtains are slightly darker than the beige of the walls, adding contrast and matching the color of the plant pots, of which there are many. Four ivy-types sit comfortably on shelves, their stems draping in a naturalistic reminder of the wiles of those allowed to grow unchecked. A Fig variant sits happily at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the rest of the lovely home, while a Rosemary bush and an Areca Palm stand side-by-side across from the stairs and under the other end of the continuous window covering the east side. Mid-morning sunshine places gorgeous shadows dappling the room. I enjoy the view from my place that I stay.

Mr. Yoon is also not the other kind of naturalist that uses animal skin rugs, so he instead decorated with both a pale cotton rug and another to add a pop of color to the room. It is on this color accentuated rug that I now stand, watching my friends from across the room. In front of me are a few simple wooden chairs and an ottoman. I wonder if the ottoman misses the couch on the other side of the room in the same manner that I wish I could join my friends. They stand so close, yet just out of reach. Instead I am trapped, a painting on the wall only appreciated by those like Mr. Yoon. I think it is cruel to take the ottoman from her couch. Perhaps this thought did not cross Mr. Yoon’s mind as he decorated this lovely space, calming for everything but the ottoman. For he surely has the kindness to allow me to sit calmly in my place to watch the morning sun and hear my friends converse each day. What more could a painting want?