• I walked into the bedroom and looked around. You can learn a lot about a person from their bedroom, more than a bathroom, living room, or kitchen. A bedroom is a person’s space, somewhere that is touched by them more than anywhere else. I looked around.
    The bed was made, though it had been slept in, it was still orderly. There were two bookshelves, a desk, a dresser, a chair, and a closet. The walls were covered in maps, weapons and instruments. I looked at the books. You can tell a lot about a person from how they keep their books, neat or untidy, alphabetically or otherwise.
    Unconsciously we organize our books in a way that makes sense to us. I didn’t wonder about why the dictionary was next to the encyclopedias, or why the sci-fi novels were next to the fantasy. I did want to know why a manual of mental disorders was between the bible and a book of Kipling’s poetry. The poetry looked more used; it had all the signs of a well loved book. On the shelf below it was a book titled The giant book of insults. The other books on the shelf were more interesting.
    When you are going through someone’s room and find a book titled How to fossilize your hamster, you unconsciously search the room for signs of hamster habitation, or perhaps an attempt at fossilized hamster. The next book I saw after that, I assumed was a gift, but what sort of person received a book called 51 pranks for the evil genius.
    I looked down, there were some older books on this shelf, and some newer. Dragon rider of Pern was in evidence, so was a series of books so long out of print I had thought them lost to time, The Fuzzy series. The book of five rings was also on the shelf.
    The bottom shelf contained His dark materials, as well as the entire Harry Potter series. I looked at the other book shelf; it had books on calligraphy, forging, and The biography of a Silver Fox. There were Doctor Seuss books, Calvin and Hobs, Foxtrot, next to a book of nursery rhymes. A copy of Aesop’s fables lay closed on the desk. There was a book on the shelf, all pink, that caught my eye. It was so unlike everything else I’d seen in the room, it simply didn’t belong. It was titled How to win friends and Influence people for the Teenage Girl. From what I had seen, the room’s occupant would not pick something such as that. The book looked unread, no dog-eared corners, no bent edges, or warped spine, though I had not seen a dog-eared corner on a single book in the room.
    The headboard of the bed also held a shelf for books. It had the entire Xanth series, though out of order. It had a few books about dragons, and a few manga. The manga were out of order, there were random books in the series, so I assumed they must have been a gift.
    I examined the desk more closely, it was neat. There was an open notebook with the beginnings of a letter written on the page it was open to. The handwriting was neat, flowing; it was very pretty, reminding me of the books of calligraphy. There were both pens and pencils sitting loose on the desk, unmarked. Other than that though, it was clean. I opened a random drawer and found a collection of calligraphy pens and inks. I closed it.
    I opened one of the dresser drawers. Its contents were neat, folded and organized. It was totally impersonal. Even neat people leave touches of themselves, there are flourishes, but this room was dark, and plain. The only true personal touches were in the books, the maps and the instruments. I had not seen a music player, or a single a CD in the room. I had seen a guitar, a flute, a fife, a violin and a few other instruments that I could not name.
    The lack of outside music sources convinced me that the rooms occupant could probably play at least one if not more of the instruments well. I looked at the alarm clock sitting on the floor next to the bed, I checked the time it was due to go off, five a.m. It was early, but that didn’t surprise me.
    I next looked at the maps, the was a world map, With Europe on the left, and North America on the right, next to it was a map of Africa, then one of India. There was one of the United States, and one of South America, an individual one of Mexico, and another of the Caribbean. I wondered at the room’s occupant.
    I knew I was in the room of the middle daughter, the one the family considered of least value. Yet it was that daughter that interested me. No one keeps so many fiction novels around unless their trying to escape something, but what was it that made the girl flee into her novels, far from the realm that humans could touch.
    I looked around the room, trying to guess her age; I decided she was probably in her mid teens. The books I had seen were mostly such as would interest a teenager, and the room more resembled a dark sanctuary then a bed chamber.
    I slipped lightly from the room, everything looking the same as when I had entered it. I moved down the hall and to the balcony. I had only to open the door slightly, climb down, and slip away into the night. I would be back, but the next time, I would be invited.