![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() I could see photos that surely had to have been taken by him, because they were of the palace, which was where he was almost all the time. There didn’t appear to be any sort of order to it, just image upon image piled up for him to enjoy. On the wall by Maxon’s door was a vast collage, wide enough to be wallpaper for my room back home. I inhaled sharply, taking in the beautiful display behind him. It was then, looking past his smiling face, that I saw the pictures. I turned to swat at him, glad to see him in a playful mood. “Maxon, you could fit a football team in there,” I teased. I wanted to go and touch it, to see if it felt as good as it looked. His bed, also made from a dark wood, was massive. Near the doors that opened to his private balcony, a glass case full of guns sat, perfectly lined up. I wondered how many lonely meals he’d had here. He had his own collection of books and a table near the fireplace that looked like it was intended for dining rather than work. His bathroom door was cracked open, and I could see a porcelain tub on the elaborately tiled floor. The whole thing must have been for show since it never seemed to get cold enough here to justify a fire. On the far wall, a wide fireplace stood, waiting to be used. The paneling was dark, some wood I wasn’t familiar with lining the whole space. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |