It was her friend's for a long time.
Then it was her's. For a long, long time.
Then one night, a long, long, long time ago, she left it downstairs in the lobby where Christmas was celebrated and neighbors traded books, bowls and file cabinets.
Who knows why the little sofa was perched so politely by the mantle? Maybe kids' allergies, setting free unneeded furniture, a need to shake out some space in an apartment lived in for decades.
The little note said, "Free Love (Seat)".
The end of the 1970's had confirmed a couple of sad truths: hair really did not look good that way; disco was not completely dead, just the good songs; and there was no such thing as free love.
But, here, like a fairy-tale ending tailored to real life, there could be a seat of love that cost nothing.
How could one resist?
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Sunday Memories: It's A Wonderful Lobby
Flying Time
Sunday Memories: Even the Cat Was Found On The Street
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