My chair rolls and swivels. It’s literally the best. I can sitting in the operatory, waiting for my doctor, and if the patient doesn’t want to talk, or I don’t want to talk, I swivel and roll. At the front (when I have the displeasure of working up there), my high-backed chair can spin around so fast, I can make myself dizzy. At school, I have a little roller stool that I can use when I’m bored/done with everything and am waiting for others to finish. That and reading on my phone (not going to lie).
Chairs can say something. The chair that sits in front of this laptop, has been with me for almost ten years. I remember scraping together quarters, dimes, and nickels in order to pay for it. It is breaking and peeling and the arms are almost ragged now. Every piece of knitwear that I have catches on it and pulls.
The chair tells a story. It has been with me for three novels, a set of short mystery stories, two term papers, a screenwriting class, and now, a new novel. This chair his swiveled and rolled with me through a lot. And I will be very sad when the time finally comes to give it up.
And on that note, it’s been real!
It's Been Real! 