Things Don’t Like Me

     Things don’t like me. Furniture pruposely sticks out its leg for me. A polished corner once literally bit me. My blanket and I have always had a complicated relationship. Soup served to me never cools. Any little thing — a coin or a cuff link — that falls off the table usually rolls away under furniture that’s hard to move. I crawl across the floor and lifting my head I see the sideboard laughing.