Tales of Inconsequence

Ayla

Ayla entered the room with an invitation clutched tightly in her hand. The space smelled of old books that would crumble at her touch she resisted the urge to do the same as a hand gently tapped her shoulder. Why are there no windows, she wondered. One less colonial portrait and one skylight surely would have helped the aesthetic. Unless they were going for a 1930’s ‘I founded an investment bank in my twenties’ feel, in which case, top marks to the interior designer in charge.