Colourful Life Graffiti

The modern room was a pigsty. An empty cup with droplets of water splashed next to it sat next to a pile of books on her dressing room table. Piles of clothes and random objects were messily scattered along the floor, transforming the room into a maze. Tripping over a pile of clothes, I caught my fall on her bed. A fur mat sat under a tall bookshelf beneath my feet.  As I rested on her silk sheets, I nervously called out her name. No response. Surprisingly, all I could hear was silence. Torn curtains covered her window. A few stains caught my attention that were not there the day before.

Gradually I reeled up the curtains and rays of sunshine seeped through the glass windows. Pushing open the windows I peeked outside and heard hissing. As I ambled down the stairs, I discovered the kitchen door was swaying wide open. As I walked outside, I realised there was a hissing sound coming from the side of the light, blue house.

“Stop!” I bellowed.

Quickly she dropped her spray can and ran to me with her arms wide open.

“Aww, come on. It is such fun; you should try.”
She answered, “I have made multiple different drawings!”

Her ocean eyes stared into mine. Trying to prove her innocence, but this wasn’t going to work on me again. A wave of hazel floated in the wind.  Hastily I noticed the spray paint marks on her grey hoodie. Her jeans were dirty with soil and paint.

“My parents aren’t home and I was bored. I found the cans in the rusty cupboard!” She responded. “So I decided to do some spray painting. As you can see, I’m just as colourful as the graffiti!”

She was squealing with excitement. Just like her room and clothes she was colourful and messy. Just like the graffiti, she was flooded with colour.