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Post by .~.T.e.a.k.~. on Mar 19, 2009 18:00:38 GMT -6
He liked the house. It was perfect for him, small yet warm… just perfect. Now he was faced with the task of making it his own, after all, he owned the place now, and yet… it didn’t quite say ‘Travis lives here’. Unlike at his old home back in Louisiana there were no deer heads mounted upon the walls, no pictures to show the life of the man, nothing.
It was bare.
Travis had made it his duty to make the house talk, to make it say ‘yeah, I live here’. He’d already been hard at work for the past two hours, and so far only the kitchen and dining room/living room were done. It was work he liked, though, and he continued at it with a passion, enjoying hammering the nails into the walls and hanging things up.
The low, steady hum of the country music he was playing hung around in the background, occasionally letting a word through, but for the most part the lyrics were hidden, unable to be heard. The vet technician smiled slightly as he moved from the dining/living room into the master bedroom and started his work anew. By the time the clocks struck nine he surmised, he’d be through or at least close to done. |
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