The shelves are coated in a layer of dust, having accumulated over the years. Books and knickknacks spill out, threatening to fall if brushed up against. On the desk, books and papers, notebooks both empty and full, sit in teetering piles on the verge of tipping. Unframed papers on the walls, a handmade mask from art class, a table of the Elements, lyrics from an intricately woven song, carefully copied. A silvery scarf hangs over the window, bought on a whim from a garage sale. A red spinny chair sits in the midst of the chaos, jackets thrown carelessly over the back. A string of blue lanterns provide dim light, not much helping cure the darkness under the bed. Shelves are used as stairs to get into the loft bed. A fluffy indigo blanket lies on top of the bare mattress and Disney princess pillow, sheets kicked to the side, ignored. A floppy green frog sits in a place of honor on the pillow, shoulder seam coming apart. Once fluffy, he now is smooth, having had all the fluff gradually worn off by constant hugging and loving use.