The Old Sofa

My name is Jack’s. Jack’s Sofa. I belong to Jack.

I’ve been with him for eight years now. When Jack was in his finals in graduate school, he got me. He had said he needed to own something to start out with his life. I was lying just by the corner in the furniture store when he came in. I snickered at his youthful poise and told my friends at the store – Old cushion and Rocking chair – that surely he had come for old cushion ’cause he could never afford me.

You see, I wasn’t proud back then. I just knew who I was. A bright, soft, comfortable sofa. I was the kind of sofa you brought your homies home to settle on. I was homely, dependable and soft. Oh so soft! I was all-purpose too. You could take my cushions off and roll my insides out for an overnight rest. I was simply all a young man needed. Certainly not this young man, I was out of his league.

I was wrong. Jack had all it took to get me! The sweet softness and charisma to convince Gloria to let me go at a reasonable price, the light in his eyes when he described how much he wanted me, the enthusiasm when he counted all he had and paid for me. He said “This sofa is all I want and more” and with that, I bid farewell to Old cushion and Rocking chair, I was off to be delivered at Jack’s.

I got my name in the first two weeks after I was delivered. Jack was trying to move out and start out with his life, so he put me at the corner of the house in the mean time. Everyone that passed couldn’t help asking: Whose pretty sofa is this? You know the response. “It’s Jack’s. Jack’s Sofa”.

Jack and I and all his few belongings moved into a studio flat soon after. He was everything I wanted too. He’d handle me with care and keep me away when his boozing friends came around. He never wanted anything to happen to me. I stayed bright, soft and dependable.

Then, things changed. Jack changed.

Jack was moving ahead with his life, so he decided to redecorate his flat. He got a complete set of chairs for the living room with a proud sofa at the center. Then, he tossed me behind the house as a storage space. When anything needed fixing in the house; he’d say “I’ll just put it on the old sofa till I can get it sorted”.

I wish Jack wouldn’t use me this way, but he would, he doesn’t care much anymore. So today I decided I needed fixing too. I let out my springs and shot them deep into some item he’d dropped on me for fixing.

Now, he’d have to fix me too.

 Or throw me out.

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