A Description of My Opposite
He was very lazy. He lay upon the red plush reading cushions, dressed in a tight Little Lord Fauntleroy tunic of black velvet, and stared out the bay-window with an air of boredom. He could see very far--twenty twenty vision, the optometrist said. He did not think to imagine a story as he stared out onto the rolling estate, pine trees clustered together in circles, surrounding the chartreuse manor. He did not imagine anything of the sort, but instead cautiously lifted himself off the reading couch. He did not touch the dresser. It would be disobeying; nor did he jump upon the serenely smoothed canopy bed or grope for the TV's remote control. He did not come near the newspaper. It was his parents' rugged terrain, and after all, what bad could really be happening in the world? Instead, the boy made his way towards the dining room and sat, very calmly, cross-legged upon an obscure, shadowed chair to the left, and patiently waited for his parents to arrive.