Gap Year
With a low sigh, Charlie ran the back of his hand across his forehead, collecting the beads of sweat that the Brazillian heat had gifted to him before wiping his hand on his already quite sodden T-shirt, looking down at his open luggage on the rather meagre single bed with a serious lack of motivation. He should unpack, find his toiletries and find the shower, but to do so he’d have to search through his stacks of clothes and he knew, in doing that, would have to spend the time meticulously folding them all neatly away. Charlie didn’t consider himself to have OCD or anything like that, but he was a guest in this house, albeit courtesy of Air BnB, and the second he had caught sight of the owner, he had known he wouldn’t …