The Writer

He had a room full of stardust, proof of his wanderlust. There was a smell of the open sea, pictures of dragons and families. I heard the sounds of old and new, coming from a corner. There was a vault standing on the table in the room. So, I opened it already. Looking back, she was coming back, which I knew, putting the box back in my seat, I soon understood. He had stored the whole universe inside his bedroom drawer