Fictional character description: Room of Post-Teenage Apostasy

The clock was frozen in time to about two hours ago, when the battery had stopped in defiance. Shrinking walls shedding their skin; the wallpaper curling off at the corners like a snake, revealing the secrets of the breezeblocks beneath.

A faint whistle, carried by the wind, swooped into the room but stopped- almost as if the sound waves of the outside world could not so much as disturb the sound of silence. The room was closed off by all manner of invisible walls.

A shattered window looked like a deranged snowflake. There was something unnaturally beautiful in its destruction, like an unrefined art of broken things and broken thoughts. The wooden window ledges were curving; the effects of a constant northern downpour. The room was simply, empty. Not empty like a new house, lacking in furniture, decoration or personality, but a vacuum empty. An emptiness alike to that which the centre of the galaxy must feel; silent and unmoving, frustratingly slow as everything around it actively has consequences. The room had a solitude unpenetrated and preserved.

A single light bulb hung down from the ceiling and its dismal illumination flickered, hesitating in its alienation. The switch was on and had been for almost a day. The strain on the glass surrounding the lonely filament increased, and the room grew darker; as if some onlooking, omnipotent spirit was suffocating it into a hellish darkness. The glass shattered, and the sound rang out, and echoed.

It smelt of burnt out cigarettes, beer bottles opened at too early an hour and of damp. The neighbourhood was prone to heavy rain and January storms, however it was comparable to light drizzles in May when looking at the stains on his pillowcase.

It was empty. And the room stayed empty.

Until the key clattered in the steely keyhole; the only thing in the room that reflected light as something precious. The hinges creaked as a sigh escaped him. Frank stepped through his doorway, regretting every decision he had made in the last 48 hours within a span of 4 seconds, noting that the pile of clothes dominating his room uncomfortably made his stomach turn.

He snuck through to the kitchen in search of milk for tea. The fridge was old and adorned with a magnet he had bought so long ago and so far away that even just gazing into the offwhite sheen of the refrigerator spaced him out.

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