“Ray kept well away from the shed. He hated the loony gestures of the furniture, its bossiness, the way Maxine would shape a table to enclose the sitter at it, trapping him like a baby in a high chair or a school boy at his inkwell.”

“I'm not clumsy. It's just the floor hates me, the tables and chairs are bullies, and the wall gets in the way.”

“It was like bouncing tennis balls off a mystery piece of furniture and deducing, from the direction in which the balls ricocheted, whether it was a chair or a table or a Welsh dresser.”

“She was pondering the option of law school, the great American baby-sitter for directionless postgrads.”

“The sun sifted through the trees around the platform, and Blake stood proudly in its curtain of light. It would be retreating from him this time. He walked over to his old spot in the shade with victory in his step. He’d been trapped there for so long. He shook his head and returned to the sun’s rays, amazed at how powerful that simple act made him feel.”

“His books were the closest thing he had to furniture and he lived in them the way other men live in easy chairs.”