Returning to the old space

With your limbs aching from a long journey you enter the old musty space, sweeping away a sprawl of cobwebs. Dust has settled itself on every surface, and in every crevice, since you had last walked through the doors into the domain. As particles of age sneak into your nostrils you sneeze harshly while the moldy air crawls into your throat. Tears form in your eyes as the fifth and final sneeze brings pain to your shoulder. The jerking action had always poked the old injury of yours. Looking about you see old pieces of art hidden under a blanket of dirt and grime, how long had it been since you were last here? In the corner you see an old broom that you decide to put to use.

Back and forth you move the bristle-ended pole across the floor, reveal the wood floorboards below. Where you have not swept your feet leave prints in grey sheet. It takes several hours of going to and fro before the room is restored to a state of habitability. A hundred letters lie before you on the old oak desk, most of them are tinted yellow in colour. You consider opening them all up and reading but a quick glance at your watch reminds you time is short, as it always is these days. Instead you scoop up the pile and walk it out to the bin still left sitting on the verge. The sun was beginning to lower from its zenith and you knew in a few hours you'd have to return to the monotony of work. For now though you steel back into the domain and picked up your old paints. The brushes are worn, stiff and frayed, the paints for the most part clogged and need unsealing. The canvas' themselves are in even worse conditions, it looks like rats had taken to them in your absence. The most unpolished of all things though are your skills, it has been so long and tapping into that old creativity is difficult with all the force remembered facts drilled into you. It's going to be difficult to get back into the sway but it is time to deviate away from reality - and back into the fantasy you once lived.