Sunlight in an empty room

First he looks at his mother. Her face betrays a mixture of disappointment and rejection. She is pouting her lips, tightening her eyes. Her back seems straighter than a ruler. And his father? He clenches his fists, bites his lips and his eyes gives the looks of a thousand deaths. But both his parents remain silent. They are silent as worldly, well-educated and well-adjusted parents.

"Feel free to walk on," he encouraged them as casually as possible. Nevertheless, they stay in the doorway for a few seconds to ensure that what they see must be true. The newly furnished room of their eldest son. The son who is about to study. The son who will start his own life in a few days. But without their direct involvement, without their immediate concern.

Well before the summer vacation his mother had arranged it all. On the same day he was told that he could rent a room in the university city, she had already ordered it all via her favourite web shop. His bed, the bookcases, a small dining table, a second-hand fridge. Yes even the plates, the pans, the cutlery, drinking cups. The kitchen of his new room may be small, but it should not stop him from preparing mouth-watering but healthy meals.

When his mother and father finally move into his room (how big will it be? Not much more than five per six meters) their eyes glide strangely and uneasily over what is not there.

Maybe I should have told them in advance, he now realizes. But don't cry over spilt milk. He resold all the items his mother had ordered and had sent to this address. From the money of his parent's stuff he had bought an old bed, a wooden table, a chair, a record player at the thrift store yesterday. He really likes to furnish his room minimally. That's how he imagines it. He will start a new life with untapped expectations, not with set certainty. He will fill the white emptiness of his room with blues music, he will decorate the bare walls of his space with full ideas.