Some days the pipe smoke would steep all the way up to the attic. The aroma circled and calmed the room, a sweet kiss on the dust of ages. A collection of painted ducks lined the window ledge and it almost felt like home.
The summer was wearing on and so had these escapes to the world above it all. Gentlemen gathered every evening in the library below to discuss the days turn of events but mainly jousted for the respect of their peers. Their lofty idealism and boisterous laughter echoed in the tightly packed attic space. But by this time it had only become the background to the sweet separation this place had given.
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