[ CW ] Describe the room you 're sitting in , maybe r/doodle will sketch it . This would be a test of how someone processes your words .

The fan hums quietly overhead. 
 
 The two windows on the west wall of the 20 x 20 bedroom are covered in white drapes, bathing the royal blue walls of the room in the grey light that seeps through them. The records, hundreds of them, lie underneath the windows large, rectangular windows. 
 
 One bookshelf, white and tall and three feet across, stands in between the two. On top of it rests an archaic stereo. The shelf underneath holds the record player, with its needle grown small from so many years of use. All the shelves underneath are overflowing with books. Books stuffed two deep or lying on top of each other in an effort to contain them. 
 
 Another bookshelf, also white, lies in the westernmost corner of the north wall. This is a monstrosity, seven feet tall and six feet wide. It hold books yes, but also memories. Kitschy knickknacks bought long ago at half remembered souvenir shops, little clay models made as a child and fired in the oven. Volume upon volume of journals and sketchbooks and guitar chord books, a childhood contained upon a shelf. 
 
 The T.V., a 42-inch vanity purchase, rests on the wall next to the shelf. Beneath it is a white media center, full of games and consoles both young and old. 
 
 A door, white like all the other furniture, opens from the northernmost corner of the east wall. It's paleness is unbroken but for a sticker purchased as a teenager, two roses twisting into the yin and yang. The closet, wide and gaping and stuffed with shoes and clothes, runs along for six feet of the east wall, ending in a squat dresser. 
 
 The bed is the centerpiece. 
 
 It rests in the very center of the south wall. It's silk sheets are dark dark blue, even darker than the walls. A giant poster of the cover of Abbey Road serves as it's headboard, and seven pillows crawl their way toward it. Beneath the bed are things not for everyone. They are for the woman who is now sitting cross legged on her bed with her computer in front of her, and the man who rests on the pillows. He plays Fire Emblem on his nintendo and often looks up at her. 
 
 A white night table sits to the left of the bed, next to the windows. A Wonder Woman lamp lights the room, while Deadpool and Bucky bobbleheads stare off into the distance. A pile of glasses, both hers and his and extras, scatter the surface. There are candles and an incense burner. There are secret things in the drawers. 
 
 At the foot of the bed is a great steamer trunk. Clothes fresh from the laundry are piled high on top of it, patiently waiting to be relocated to the dresser or the closet. 
 
 A simple rug rests on the hardwood floor in front of the trunk while posters of movies and musicians cover the walls and ceiling. 
 
 Thor's hammer, a present from him to her, hangs from the wall on a nail to the right of the bed.
