Fayette Fox exhaling deeply, just like just she used to when she got home from work. We caught up over mushroom risotto with roasted acorn squash. Then we brought our glasses of wine into the living room and together, repaired the tear on the brown recliner. In the morning, the recliner was gone. A week later, a worn, orange armchair appeared in its place. I cocked my head looking at it. The chair seemed familiar but I couldn’t think where I’d seen it before. Was it from college? Study abroad in Florence? An old boyfriend’s apartment? I made myself oatmeal with raisins and apple chunks. I sat in the armchair to eat. The fabric was nubby and soft. I felt safe and loved and… a little uncomfortable. Something was poking me. I put my oatmeal on the coffee table and reached under the cushion. I pulled out a stuffed frog. Things aren’t usually gone forever.
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