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The wardrobe seemed out of place in that corner, Eames had bought it with another room in mind. It looked too big. He thought about moving it several times a day.

Eames sat down in his living room with the intention of closing his eyes and enjoying the breeze that entered through the open windows. It was the perfect afternoon to just drink and think, to stare at dust particles floating in the sunlight and hum a tune.

Instead, his eyes were firmly set on the carpet. It looked ancient in a way that made Eames feel like he himself had lived more than his wrinkle-free face let on, which he considered to be true. However, he wasn’t looking at the carpet because he liked it so much: it was because the wardrobe was next to it.

He thought that the poor thing didn’t deserve such treatment. It wasn’t its fault that Eames had chosen to cover what was on the wall with it. It just happened to have been nearby. It was meant to be a simple piece of furniture, not a symbol of existential dread.

Eames also thought that, as a pioneer in the field, he should offer some warning to others. Side-effects of forging: Speaking in an accent for some time. Styling your hair in a different way for a couple of days. Waking up in the middle of the night to paint someone else's favorite flowers on your wall, and only realize that it isn’t a you thing to do until you are done. He'll do it, but later. Maybe when he wasn’t just as inexperienced as the rest. One of the hazards of venturing into an unexplored world was, he supposed, the lack of warnings.

Over his fourth drink, Eames concluded that he'd get over it, eventually. He had to start planning his next forge, anyways. Eames also decided that the expression on his face mustn't have been as foreign as it felt; he was just tired. He looked at the carpet again, thought about moving the wardrobe, and settled on moving himself.