The Old Blue Chair

The big, old chair smelled of dust and food and sweat. Full of peanut shells, dog hair and spider webs, I set it out on the curb with a FREE sign on it. Tim, who took his own life last year, bought it during one of his visits to my little town. He needed a chair he could sleep in. He was no longer able to sleep laying down. Tim's VISITING chair came from the local store that has a perpetual SALE sign painted on their window in giant, orange, gaudy script. Overpriced, low-end furniture, but free delivery. I wrestled the chair from the living room and drug it to the curb in the rain. It was gone in three days when the person made sure no one was watching and took it away, soaking wet, to its new home. Tim and the chair had things in common. Both were too large and both grew too uncomfortable after a time.