Michael
I tap on the door. “Charlotte? You there?”
No reply.
Opening the door, I step inside: Charlotte’s room. Her private space.
She’s made the most of it, given that her definition of ‘most’ is bookshelves everywhere it’s humanly possible to fit them, leaving just enough room for a desk, with an armchair by the window to look down at the view over the lake.
Sunshine slants in, and even without the heating the room is warm and welcoming.
Must sort myself out with a home office…
Not as if we don’t have the space…
But I see what I came in looking for, sitting atop her desk along with pens, calculator and other office paraphernalia and her laptop beside some textbook lying open. I crane my neck at the title: ‘Principles of Metallurgical Thermodynamics.’
What fun…
I cast around, ex
