“I wore a groove in the kitchen floor with endless trips to the fridge, hoping against hope that I had somehow missed a plateful of cold sausages on the previous 4,000 excursions. Then, for no obvious reason, I decided to buy a footstool.”
“I rush to her side and touch her cold skin, hoping against hope for a pulse.”
“I was beloved. I had been hoped for. Somehow, I was necessary.”
“Check out that one at the end. He's taken the form of a footstool. Weird...but somehow I like his style.""That is a footstool.”
“It seems to be a kind of lounge,' she added, tripping over a small footstool. The floor seemed to be littered with them, like toadstools.”
“She doesn't know I cry for the changing times. That just as I reread favourite books, some small part of me hoping for a different ending, I find myself hoping against hope that the war will never come. That this time, somehow, it will leave us be.”