There is a wooden dresser. On top of it, on the left, is a small silver camcorder, the kind families used to record birthdays in the early 2000s. Next to it is a black speaker. That all feels right.
Below that, on a smaller table, are the two telephones. This is a wonderful detail, because in 2004 many houses had both: the old wired phone on the table, with its curly white cord hanging down, and the newer, big cordless phone standing upright next to it.
The wired phone looks correct. The cord hangs down in a natural loop. The buttons are visible.
The cordless phone, however, is strange. It is too tall, too thin, and its antenna is too long and too perfectly straight. Its keypad is a grid of blurry dots, not real buttons. It looks like a phone remembered from a dream, not a phone from a real house.
