Ivory in a Loin Cloth

Ivory looked about his tiny cubical of a room. Sure it was bigger than his ticket at home, but it was inside walls! There was a window that looked out upon the other dorms. Ivory sighed. There was nothing in here except a bed with mattress, desk, chair, and closet dresser of some sort. Providing he remember what everything was call.

“I’m so unprepared,” he sighed to himself.

They hadn’t even provided sheets, which he could have used to cover himself with. Ivory looked at the windows again. The curtains were an ugly yellowed beige. They weren’t even proper curtains, but thin strips of stiff fabric that hung down.

“Better than nothing,” he thought to himself as he climbed onto his bed to pull some down.

Someone squealed from outside and ivory flushed a pale pink, turned quickly and hid below the window sill. Someone had apparently seen in all his glory. This was going to be the worst experience ever.

“No fleeing this time,” he reminded himself.

Looking at the curtain strips he’d ripped out, Ivory wondered what to do with them. Cautiously he stood and closed the curtains, not that anyone could see below his waist form below he was so short. Then, with a good deal of wrongs, before getting it right, he made the strips into a sort of Native American loin cloth.

“That’ll so for now, I hope.” He sighed.

Ivory stepped to his door and opened it, his tail swishing nervously. He looked about his, nostrils flaring slightly like a nervous horse.

“Hi.”

Ivory attempted a smile, which was slightly grimace like. He was totally out of practice.

The End

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