The chair.

A surprisingly mellow summer’s day; courtesy – the clouds, she sat in her favourite seat. The traditional chair was a hand-me-down from her Nan, who left her exactly five months and 21 days ago. Her Nan was her best friend/ soul mate/ mentor/ most witty person she knew. Nan was the ‘ Queen of Epigrams’ and during her final days, she often confided in her. ” I don’t think you’ll ever be able to find love, dear. I feel my ghost self will do a better job than you in flesh and bones.”

The chair was huge and the cushion was rugged, not exactly the best looking furniture in her apartment. In all honesty, you naturally expect the best looking furniture in a designer’s home but five months and 21 days of mourning and ‘ice cream devouring ‘ marathons were causing more harm than good, evident by the flab on her once flat stomach.

She planned to spend the day laying in the chair. The advertisement for the chair was already up and any of these days would be her last with the beloved piece of furniture. In addition, someone was due to visit her today and have a look at it and two lazy hours later, there was a series of knocks on her door (Mental reminder – get the door bell fixed!)

He looked at her… Awkward silence as he waited for her to reply to his question – When can I take this chair home?  She stood there dumbfounded and tongue tied.

Evidently, her Nan’s ghost was much better at finding her love than she was!

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