Small rooms. He didn’t like them. He much preferred the open air of an evening under the stars or the soft confines of a weatherproofed tent. If he had to choose between a big or small room, he would choose big without hesitation.

And of course, in typical Cinnamon Brii luck, he managed to land himself in a small room with a singular window across from the door. He didn’t like it.

One day, fed up with the room, he decided that a home makeover was in order. Within a week, everything from the floors up had been redone.

A thick, fluffy tan rug covered the floor, and the walls and ceiling had been painted a deep sky blue. A few splotches of tan and green and clay red decorated the base of each wall, giving a resemblance to the terrain of the outback he so loved. A few sticks of furniture stood haphazardly here and there, giving a look of general clutter. A chair here, a dresser there, a few hooks in a corner. A bed stood in the middle of the room, a large plush thing that took up at least half the floor space.

He surveyed the room, satisfied, before his eyes stopped at the bed. A thick white comforter lay in a crumpled ball on the floor, and the sheets were still rumpled against the mattress. A slight smirk crossed his face when his gaze trailed over the indented forms of two people still pressed into the mattress. A pillow slowly tilted over the corner and dropped to the floor as he watched.

His room was small, yes, but he was starting to like it. It had its charms. Maybe not the same as what he had fallen in love with, but it helped house another love, and that was good enough for him.