The room looked like it had been arranged by some design guru with a scarf, an effeminate stance and flowing locks, who thought it was all about flow and form and other things beginning with ‘f’. Julie had a few ideas of her own on that front, but she had kept quiet because he seemed so happy that this made him look arty or edgy or something.
The orange chaise longue, the purple coffee table with the heavy architecture books, that said ‘look I’m an intellectual, I’m one of you’, the stairs suspended as chunks of wood from the wall, the white clinical walls, the expensive designer lighting all at odds with the London Edwardian townhouse. No doubt this contrast, the flipping of expectation, was considered uber cool.
But it was the chess set old, and chipped, and made of wood which drew her eye. It was battered, and worn, and stained, and abused, by years of use. That he hadn’t replaced with something more modern and stylish, suggested this mattered, this meant something to him, an heirloom or a trusted companion perhaps.
The late afternoon sun slid through the window to illuminate the castles, knights, kings and queens in long elongated shadows falling across the oak stained floors. Riddles and games seemed important in his life, more so because the pieces here were in play, and she wondered who he was playing, and wether he was winning.
Was he black or white, good or evil?
She hadn’t made up her mind, just yet…
Excervice to present a scene and give perhaps a sense of foreshadowing.