The hinges made a quiet squeal of resistance. Twilight filtered through the blinds covering a small window on the wall to his right, perpendicular to the door, and illuminated a space just long enough to fit a bath along the wall opposite the window, and a pedestal washbasin and toilet opposite the light switch. A bare bulb coated with dust hung from the ceiling was useless in the blackout. The walls were about the same size as each other, but were not at exact right angles, creating a skewed cube twice as tall as it was wide. The wall tiles were white, but dulled with neglect. Black mould had sprung up along the silicone sealant where the bath met the wall. Dusty cobwebs hung above the window, their creators long since departed or deceased. A faded circular mat lay in the approximate centre of the room. Maybe it had once been white. The air felt moist and smelled unpleasant – stagnant water and mould. On the wall across from Victor, a mirror smeared with water marks hung above the sink.
