Finding Harry

26. Finding Cherry Pie

Looking around the room I managed to trash in the time span of one week I take a deep breath. My clothes I have yet to wear from inside my duffle bag are strewn across the floor next to and under the bed, the pile of my dirty laundry is glaring at me from the other side of the room.

With a huff I chuck down the bag on the bed and tip out all the things I was keeping inside, putting my dirty tank tops and bikini from yesterday back inside but leaving everything else scattered over the bed. 

I walk over, bag in hand, to the mound of dirty laundry scooping it up putting all of it inside the bag. I put it down on the floor then step out of my converse putting them neatly underneath the desk, my  black sweats, grey hoodie and underwear adding them to the bag.

A small chill runs down my spine. I hurry over to my selection of clean clothes hastily putting on a fresh pair of underwear, An oversized deep purple t-shirt and my faded black leggings.

Not my go to outfit but something comfortable, I've got a lot of cleaning to do.

Using the hair tie on my wrist I put my dreads up into a bun on my head before once again picking up the tote bag and leaving the room. Now I've just got to find the washing machine.  

I find the washing machine and dryer downstairs in a room that is exactly underneath where I've been sleeping that also has a door leading to the backyard. Other than the washer and dryer there's a shelf above them holding various laundry products and next to the door that heads outside is an array of muddy shoes. 

Opening the washer I dump all my clothes inside discarding the tote bag on top of the dryer, for the most part they're all dark toned so I don't bother with separating them. I don't really care if my white's come out slightly stained it won't be the end of the world. I quickly scan the shelf picking out the detergent and fabric softener adding it to the mix of my dirty clothes.

Closing the door to the laundry as I walk back out into the hallway, the sound of the washing machine starting up muffles behind me I pick at my nails. I've got about an hour till it's done washing and I'll have to put in the dryer so I make my way back up to the bedroom.  

I walk as slowly as I can back up the stairs the wood creaking after each step I take not eager to get back to that mess of a room that I need to correct. Don't get me wrong I've never been the super clean type, my bedroom back home has random writing all over it's four walls and you can rarely see the floor in there thanks to the lack of space on my clothing rack.

But something about the bedroom here being as untidy as it is doesn't sit right with me. I feel like I'm disturbing a frozen piece of history every time I step foot in there. I don't belong in that bed. That desk isn't mine, the wardrobe isn't mine, that bay window isn't mine nothing in that room is mine except for the mess. I'm a stranger here upsetting it's usual form of untouched perfection.

Once I'm back inside the bedroom I sort out the remains of what I dumped from the tote bag onto the bed, running quickly to return a few of my things to the bathroom then back to the bedroom. I put my phone on charge, place my earphones and sunglasses neatly on the bedside table then brace myself for organising the mass of wrinkled but clean clothes at my feet.

I'm about to start shovelling my clothes back inside my duffle bag when I realise that they're just going to get more wrinkly if I keep them in there. I don't want to be walking around in creased clothes so I open the wardrobe, theres enough free hangers to put my stuff up and then still have plenty left over.

I start to hang up my my tops, my eyes flicker to the box full of my Mom's clothes and a cute red tank top catches my gaze so I swiftly hang it up with my other things. More pieces of my Mom's clothing attract my attention and before I realise it I've hung up all of my clothes and almost all of hers.