The Overgrown Hour with Cleo

Alright, so here's the deal.
It rains here. A lot. The kettle's always on, toast is in the toaster, something unknown is growing in the corners, and the candles relight themselves when you're not looking. Don't ask, we don't know.

The Overgrown Hour is where I park the noise. Rain on old glass, low candlelight, the slow mumble of a hut that the woods are quietly taking back. Sounds to study to, sleep to, or just sit inside of yourself when the day's been a bit much.

Stay long enough and you might catch Cleo. She doesn't think anyone's watching.
That's it. Bring your tea and your snacks. Keep the lights low.