Anya, the Artemis Pungent smell of acetone mixed with the air readily as the spilled nail polish remover soaked the white linen bed sheet. The room was dressed in white. Stern, as snow that never melts. Regal, as pearls born from deep sea secrets. Silent, as sheets draping the dead. The carpet on the floor was white and plush, exuding an aura of luxury not at ease with the otherwise austere room. A large frame hung on one of the walls displaying a black and white photo of colorful flowers. "Shit" exclaimed Anya, before realizing that acetone evaporates quickly. She decided to drop the sheets at the cleaners tomorrow. She glanced at the spilled nail polish one more time, deeply annoyed that her clean white bedroom dressed like a bride, was no longer crispy clean. The room next to the bedroom was the study, which actually could be called the dark room. Heavy drapes the color of blue almost as dark as black keep sunlight away through the day. The walls adorned a few
Articles, Poetry and Short Stories by Proma Ray.