Slowly, my things will fold themselves into neat stacks and will scurry around till they form a tight little circle on the bed.

My socks and the sweatshirt that smells of hay will dart out of the wooden cupboard. The soap jar with its interesting blue bubbles and the bag of toothpaste and sunscreen will edge towards each other.

While I sleep in the middle of white blankets, my things will murmur about their past week away from home. They'll move away from new places, which had begun to grow on them, to the comfort of familiarity.

Tomorrow morning I'll wake up and go, taking my neatly packed things with me. The room will be left behind, bearing no traces of my time there.