My perfect place

It smells of dust and mawkish tea. It is a tight spot between two walls and a table, there is only one way in, which makes it feel safe, like a hermit crab in his comfortable shell. Through lightweight earphones seeps a soft hum of working laptop. Big bouffant blanket sits on the shoulders, wraps around legs, warming the body through and through. It is dark all around and only the screen of the laptop faintly glows, giving just enough light to illuminate it’s keyboard. No one else is in here, no one else to interrupt that brief yet everlasting slumber of mind and soul. Time passes by, minute after minute and nothing can trouble viscous thoughts of something ethereal.