The beige la-z-boy leaned back, its crushed velour stretching from head to foot rest in a yawn, as if taking a break while its owner went to the kitchen for a soda.
Cars, trucks and motorcycles whizzed by at 65 miles per hour. And the chair sat on the interstate's shoulder and watched, unperturbed by the noise, an observer on the highway of life.
"Slow down. Kick back," it called to me. "Take a seat and enjoy the view. You're moving so fast you can't focus."
"Can't stop now," I called in my rear view mirror. "I've got to keep up with the flow of traffic. Putting on the brakes now would be dangerous."
"Have it your way," the chair replied. "But I'm going to sit here just a little longer."
1 comment:
I loved this piece. It sounded like something billy collins would write.
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