The prompts are; jungle :: matchbox :: sparrow :: hog :: mull
The matchbox room was a comedown after the jungle. She stood next to her luggage and stared at the tiny room.
“It is a bit small, I grant you,” said the cockney landlord behind her, “but I think you’ll find it will grow on you.”
Like mildew, she thought. “It’s fine, thank you. I hope you received the deposit on time?” She turned to look at his hog-like face, that managed to glisten with sweat in the cold room.
“I did, indeed. I trust that the rent will be forthcoming shortly?”
“Yes, on the fifth, as arranged.”
“Excellent. Then I will leave you to your new abode,” he said, giving one last greasy smile, and then finally shutting the door behind him.
She sighed as she looked around her. The room was big enough for a sparrow, really, nothing more. Her large trunks looked ridiculous bundled up against the wall, but she she had no idea things would be like this. It had seemed the norm when she had taken the steamer back to London. She would have to prioritise what to unpack, use only what she needed. She dreaded what the bathroom must be like. None of that mattered, anyway.
She sat down on the bed and mulled it over. He had been gone since January, that was four months now. She had no intention of letting him remove himself from her life without explanation, without some idea of what was going on. That was unacceptable. She was going to find out what had happened to him. And then she was going to go home, back to her old life and her own country.
Home. She thought with misery of the starlings and birds that fluttered on the veranda at home, the heat and the light so breathtaking and familiar at the same time. She wanted to go back there so much. But first she had a job to do. Find him. And then go home. Even if it was over his dead body.