A Room with Four

Room 106. The end of the first floor hallway is a pretty long walk from the front doors of Laurel Hall.
A wooden oak-looking door blocks the way between the tile and the carpeting of the suite. A mottled brown carpet which is reminiscent of beef stew scratches at bare feet if someone is brave enough to walk on it with bare feet. The tile in the kitchen is a grey color to me, but others say it's a light tan or a cream, with an outer border of a dull green.
The toilet room and shower is a grey tile as well, but I've never asked what color it actually is. It doesn't exactly matter to me.
The bedrooms are tiled as well, an affect I find to feel like a mental institution (and not the good kind [ie. a college]). It makes me feel comfortable...and yet not. I tend not to touch the cold tiles with my bare feet unless they were really hot after a day of calisthenics. I feel out of place in the lonely bed, but I make due. The other rooms are in similar styles, but each blanket and pillow differ in color and shape. The smells of others linger in the air, making my stomach turn. It's comforting to know I'm not alone.
There are other rooms on the floor, all having different light colors. I can't see the difference, but each room feels different. I feel like I belong in mine.