Sixty words to describe your office right this minute. Here's mine:

The chilly room was crammed with books, papers, and the paraphrenalia of two computers, one for standing, one for sitting. Stuck along the wainscot trim were congratulatory cards and letters, and atop a small, music-laden bookshelf lay two naked dolls. A glass of water, going tepid, had a sheet of paper across its top to keep the flies out.

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Comment by B.R.Stateham on November 20, 2009 at 1:51am
(A snaggle-tooth over sixty words. Damn!)
Comment by B.R.Stateham on November 20, 2009 at 1:47am
Music blaring--Springsteen and his 'Pink Cadillac.' Paper cluttered desk looks lived in and comfortable. Sunlight is coming in through the French Doors behind me and the two year old granddaughter is dancing beside me on the polished hardwood floors. Ass deep in writing about killing off a professional snitch and two cops trying to save his life. That's my world. And you're welcome to stop by anytime.
Comment by Dana King on November 20, 2009 at 12:37am
The short wing of the L-shaped desk faced a window that opened onto a postage stamp yard. Bare trees waved skeletal fingers of branch in the wind. Book shelves covered the wall opposite the longer side of the desk; two doors—closet and entry—were the fourth wall. Sports memorabilia and a good chair. A good chair was imperative.

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