Sunday Evening

The Sunday evening drew slowly to a close. The pale yellow light from lamp on the table by the far corner shed its warmth all around. The pool of light illuminated a divan with a couple of books thrown around, the newspaper and its assorted supplements, the television remote, a pair of glasses and a mobile phone. On the table where the lamp stood was pile of old newspapers with an ashtray for a paperweight, a landline phone with its dust cover. Across the room, in the corner by the window was a study table overflowing with photo albums stacked haphazardly. The huge french windows were open, inviting in the gentle evening breeze making the curtains flutter lazily. In the armchair next to the divan, angled towards the T.V. was the evidence of human existence in the room: a very squashed cushion! And as the T.V. churned out its usual volley of advertisements, the Sunday evening drew slowly to a close...
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