The couch came with the house, sat on the porch until this morning. It was creamsicle before it turned sun bleached gold. Handholding, kid jumps, catnaps, balloons, birthdays, newspaper and novels, guitar playing, summer dinners. Seams torn. Cushions threadbare. He moved the couch onto the front lawn. Late afternoon, the little one and I sat outside on the couch facing the road, and watched the cat stroll by.