Noel's bedroom felt smaller after breakfast with his family.
The heavy drapes were now pulled back, letting pale afternoon light spill across the floorboards. The single candle from last night had been snuffed and removed; fresh ones waited on the mantel. The air still carried the faint smell of ink from the catalogues and the lavender soap clinging to his skin.
He sat at the small writing desk near the window, sleeves rolled to his elbows, shirt collar open. In front of him lay a large sheet of plain paper. Beside it was a pencil, an ink bottle, and a ruler he had borrowed from the library downstairs.
He was trying to draw.
He wasn't able to draw perfectly since his hands weren't trained for this... but enough to get the idea down.
