Clone Alone (pt3)
Entering the room, it was apparent that either the person who lived here was a complete slob, or hadn’t been around in some time, given the thick layer of dust that covered all the wooden furniture and the musky smell of unwashed cloth. The long settled dirt from the floor caking on to the soles of their feet from the residual fluid from the tank. “What I wouldn’t give for a trip to a hot spring right now…” they said but paused on the thought. “Have I been to a hot spring? I don’t remember going to one, but the fact it came to mind means I must have…” they thought. Ambling over to the dresser, they pulled it open to a plum of dust and a few sneezes. Digging through the drawers for something to wear to cover what their mother would have called ‘shame’ but it honestly didn’t seem so bad save for the cold interior and needing a bath. After a few minutes of finding clothes that were too big both length and width they found an old musty moth nibbled, pullover robe. Likely something more ceremonial it would have to do. Finding another robe that looked nearly identical but far more moth eaten they wiped off as much of the substance sticking to their skin and hair as possible, though the process left them feeling like their hair was a bigger mess than it was matted down, but at least the fluid wouldn’t dry there. After putting back everything the way they found it, and tossing the ruined robe on the floor near the bed they walked back to the main room. “I should probably leave an apology note for taking the robe.”
Searching the tabletop until they found a blank scrap of paper, the inkwell was dry and all that was left were small bits of charcoal. Grabbing a piece it half squished half crumbled in their hand. “It just keeps getting worse.” they said rubbing their right index finger in the mush and writing with a near child-like grace “Sorry I borrowed a robe. I’ll try to bring it back someday.” The handwriting was atrocious, and it contained a few spelling mistakes due to the smudging with a finger as skinny as they might be. It was still a far cry from the accuracy of a good quill or actual charcoal for that matter. “I think I might be left handed.” After a few practice letters they came to the conclusion they were indeed left handed. “Why did I think I was right handed?”
Looking through everything in the room again and shoving anything that seemed somewhat useful and like it would be unmissed they crammed it into a makeshift sack made from a bedsheet tied into a bundle. “In for a copper in for a gold I suppose.” They said tossing the bag on the table they started looking for shoes, sandals or something they could make into coverings for their feet. Eventually they managed to find a pair that were too big for their feet. Making it look like someone walking around in their parents shoes but they would do until they could find something better. Also discovering a big wizard hat straight out of the stereotype of children's stories. “Don’t be ridiculous…well…” they second guessed and shoved it in the bundle with the rest of the things they gathered.