His place was about what she'd expected as he led her into his apartment. The style she'd seen in old photograph was everywhere around in small doses, owing to the restrictions of the island. He hadn't been there as long as she had so he hadn't accrued much in the way of trinkets or objects, or even much furniture. It actually reminded her of her own apartment back home in Boston; pretty bare, filled with books, stripped down and simple like she liked. Only since Charlie had her life and apartment been filled with chaos and brightly coloured trains. Abi unashamedly snooped around, picking up a book here and there before going over to his typewriter on the desk.
She dared to touch it. Hemingway's typewriter.
"Coffee... please..." she replied absently, running her finger down the spacebar.