Couches hide things. Cellphones. Notes with mysterious names and phone numbers. Unidentified pharmaceuticals. Crumbs from chips and pastries you didn't know were in the house. And couches never talk. Was there a kiss exchanged as the person on one cushion leaned toward the person on another? Maybe. Maybe not.
My blue nylon camp chairs have apparently been out on the town. An arcade? A street fair? When I unfolded them at the new house, a clutch of tickets was nestled in one of the seats. I hope a fabulous time was had by all. I hope there was a ticket that won the raffle.
1 comment:
oh dear
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