ep2

That night there were people. They hung their long coats on the coat-stand,

which accepted them graciously, and checked themselves in the mirror, which sweetly

complimented them, eliciting a few shy smiles. They passed through into the room

beyond, from whence people noises were issuing.

The mirror shuddered as a sound of breaking glass permeated the room and

someone began to cry.

Christine was forcibly led through the doorway by the woman and was sat down

on the chair, which made every attempt to soften the fall.

For the first time in its life, the chair felt a stab of worry. What was wrong?

“If you can‟t control yourself, you can just sit here until you decide to be a little

more grown up.” Christine‟s grey eyes scowled. The woman, in the act of strutting out in

her click-clacking heels, didn‟t notice, but the chair did, and was struck with admiration,

mixing with the anxiety to create a slightly sickening sensation.

“I hate her.”

The chair understood. It hated her too.

Over the next few days, the chair learned that it had been given a new name -

Timeout. This was thrilling. Christine spent time with it every day, sometimes crying and

raging, sometimes nonchalantly coloring in a little book. The chair realized that she was

an artistic genius, and also sometimes managed to color in the lines.

Time doesn‟t mean that much to a chair.

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