My favorite room had dark brown walls and an extremely marked up, old plank hardwood floor; I didn't mind the markings, it gave the place character. There were 2 windows in the room shrouded in navy blue curtains that did not match but I adored them anyhow because they were all mine. I sat in this room on my tan colored micro-suede couch, very plush and comfortable, with my oak coffee table in front of me. There was a side table to my right with a black lamp and a dusty rose recliner on the other side of it by the window; the other window was located behind the couch. The fireplace was directly in front of me and it had a black marble mantle where the flat screen tv sat. There was a door to the right of the fireplace that led into the bedroom, closed off by a mahogany door with frosted glass windows. To the left of the tv on another wall was a white bookshelf with 4 shelves that contained trinkets, photos and books of various fictional subjects, as well as cookbooks mostly. To the left of that bookshelf there was a doorway into the hall.
This room was the living room in the first apartment I completely called my own, and it symbolized freedom to me and that I was capable of doing something important on my own. It meant a lot to me, this room, as it was all mine and contained my own things and was where I could unwind at the end of the day with someone I cared deeply about at my side.