Silcо

Thoughts were slowly floating in your mind as you sprawled on the star-shaped bed, occasionally bringing a steaming cigarette to your lips and inhaling the smoke, only to throw your hand aside again and flick the ashes into an ashtray on the floor. Cigarette smoke slowly rose to the dark ceiling and disappeared there when it left the line of yellow light emitted by the desk lamp, the only light source in the room. From the side of this lamp and the table, soft sounds of a fountain pen on paper could be heard– a young man sitting at the table was leisurely writing something down in his notebook, his elongated hair was gathered into a bun at the back of his head, allowing only a few strands to hang near his face, the light of the lamp made his already sharp facial features even more pronounced. “Open the window,” he said softly, without looking up from his notes.

you are bored in the late quiet evening