Casimir Shaw excitedly pulled Leah to tour his house. The small cabin was already minimalist in style, and the young boy's room was also very simple. Only the bedroom had a row of tall bookshelves, filled with books, each marked with the age he should read that row. Leah glanced over it quickly and found it peculiar, thinking Casimir would have to read them all by the age of eighteen.
"Mommy, I'll take you to see Old Richard's room." Casimir Shaw hadn't been back for a long time, and upon returning, he was like a carefree bird, restless, pulling Leah to Richard Shaw's room. The man's room was even simpler, with only a desk and chair, a bed, and a simple wardrobe with neatly folded cotton and linen clothes. No sign of winter clothes.
