ErraticHopper

My childhood friend's house. This house is small (ish), old, rickety and crooked. It has some charm to it. There are several articles of furniture in lime green, enough to form a colour theme. From the kitchen, with an oven squeezed against the wall on the uneven wood floor, carpeted stairs rise up twisting round against the walls. The treads of the stairs are sunken with age.*

After we climb some way up the bizarre stairs, we get to the top, our heads almost bumping against the ceiling. The stairs finish in a dead end, the banister folding neatly around to form a balcony of sorts. Beyond, seemingly attached to the ceiling, are a large partly-open leather bag, its zipper facing towards us, and an irregularly shaped red box with a centre clasp opening. He tells me there are two spare rooms at the top of the house and he has the bigger one (his parents have the other). They have high security. To enter his room, which was once his grandma's, one must be his grandma or a trusted individual and say the correct password. I don't know any password and feel uncertain as I squeeze my head and shoulders into the opening of the box. But the next moment I'm inside the room and so is he.

His room has light grey carpet, a heavy old wooden table in the centre of the room surrounded by half-height bookshelves. A tall window in the corner opposite the entrance is framed by heavy floor-length curtains. The view outside is of a bright white sky interspersed with pale clouds.

I don't remember what we talk about but later on he has to go talk to someone else, another girl. I leave the house. But soon after I go back in. I'm jealous. I'm surprised at myself for feeling this way - for in real life, I don't have the slightest crush on him. I creep back up the stairs until I am again in front of the strange double entrance. From the further one (to his parents' room) I hear voices. That's where they went. I once again insert my head and shoulders into that box to enter his room while holding a small, dusty old blue cloth-bound book. I crouch down and place the book on his table trying to be as quiet as possible. I lean against the wall intending to listen in, but I don't hear anything.

From time to time I hear noises. I hear his parents come back home and move about below, and try to hide against the thick curtains unless they hear me. But they evidently don't, so I come out. Then I hear him returning to his room. I start to hide behind the curtains again but I realise I won't be able to stay hidden for long while he's here. So I bravely stand up as he enters. He sees me, is surprised for a moment, but laughs. I tell him, embarrassed, that I'm only there for the book. But his teasing eyes say he knows that's not the truth. Blushing hotly, I say goodbye and leave his house, hurrying away down the road.

*It need not be said that his real house looks absolutely nothing like this.