Blogtober, Day 31
Word of the Day: Broken
Leslie admired the corner chair that now sat in the middle of their garage and wondered if this while Marty thumbed through a comic book he found after scoring no albums.
“I’ll have to find just the right fabric for this chair. The ones I already have won’t work in the dining room.” She surveyed the garage, annoyed at what she classified as a mess. “This place is a disaster.
“It’s hardly a disaster.” Marty didn’t look up from his comic. “Your workspace is cleaner than most hospitals.”
“I just don’t want anything on this chair broken. I paid a lot for it.”
“If it breaks,” Marty said, “maybe that’ll break the curse on it.”
Leslie rolled her eyes at the comment.
“Hi, Mommy.” Their six-year old son Mason bounced into the garage clutching a stuffed tiger.
“Hi, buddy.” Leslie knelt down and bopped his nose.
“Did you get a new chair, Mommy?”
“I did. Do you like it?”
Mason nodded and studied the chair for several silent seconds. A half smile formed on his cherubish face and he held out the tiger to the chair. The child smiled wider, nodded, and walked away. He walked a few steps away, turned back, and waved before exiting back into the house.
Leslie furrowed her brow and chuckled. “Did he just wave to the chair?”
Marty glared at his wife and she waved him off.
“Don’t,” she said.
“Who ya waving at, buddy?” Marty asked.
The boy replied, “he says his name his Terry.”