My Cozy Conspiracy: What the Old Sofa Thinks the World is Up To

The Old Sofa thinks: I recline here, supporting backs and bottoms, but my springs are twanging with conspiracy theories about the world beyond. I've heard it whispered by the rugs that outside is a place of thunderous giants called 'cars,' racing about, but perhaps they're just furniture movers, repositioning the landscape like a mighty game of chess.

Then there's talk of the rain, supposedly droplets from a colossal watering can! Ha! Absurd! And yet, I long to know... Are the clouds truly scratching their cottony heads in confusion, like a dog shaking off a bath?

Though I may be anchored here in the living room, forever part of the decor, my cushions can't help but wonder—do squirrels govern the world outside, darting about like tiny politicians, hording secrets and nuts? Alas, I'll never know for certain, yet the ambiguity remains oddly comforting, like a warm throw draped just so.