Everything about this room was different. Wasn't white, wasn't minimalistic. There was a dark brown desk that had fountain pens scattered across it. The duvet was a creamy blue, it smelled like lilacs. A painting of a vase of sunflowers hung over the bed. Ennis liked to spend time looking at it, at the thick strokes of yellow, the dark brown that wasn't quite black. She touched the surface (her knowledge of art berating her); she felt the hills and valleys, the thick tackiness of the paint.
The flowers were vibrant, in bloom, and seemed to glow with the joy of life.
They made her smile.
Ennis spent half of her morning reading. Firo didn't have many books, but he did get a newspaper everyday. Firo only ever bothered to read the headlines, somewhere between throwing on his jacket and shoving toast in his mouth, but Ennis savored every word. She read about important people , people she had never met, who had merely been names and facts, before.
It annoyed her that she could do the crossword in ten minutes.
She was happy it was okay for her to feel annoyed.
In the afternoon she'd listen to the radio. She wasn't fond of the radio dramas, they seemed forced and fake. Baseball games entertained her. The announcers were so genuine, and the excitement from the crowd filtered through the static and excited Ennis, too.
Going out was Ennis' favorite activity. She like walking down new streets, and looking in new shops, and watching new people. She liked the fresh air and that she could walk and not take the black box car.
She listened to babies cry, and vendors hackle. To birds chirp and tires screech. Sometimes she hummed to herself because silence wasn't the only safe place.
She went to a baseball game one day. An older gentleman caught a foul ball in the seat behind her and decided to give it to the pretty young lady. Ennis had never blushed in such a way before.
She stopped at a market on the way home. She came home with a bundle of sunflowers in her arms.