Spring 2010 • Vol. XXXII No. 2 FictionApril 1, 2010 |

The Chaise

The object crouched in the Crandalls' back bedroom, angled into a corner but forever present, the uninvited guest. Nelda hated the thing. She was convinced that it had a mind of its own. When she dragged it upstairs to the back bedroom Patrick protested, but even he had to admit there was no right place for his friend's castoff in their cheery, cluttered house. It was simply too big. At least Nelda didn't have to look at it in its dark corner, but she never forgot that it was there---a reminder of Ardis Vaill. The French teacher's castoff was undeniably a presence. There was no getting around it, at least not without denting a shin or kicking her abandoned relic farther back into the dust underneath the attic stairs. From back to footrest it measured six feet and it was all theirs, left to them by aggressively glamorous Ardis, who tossed her hair a lot and spoke her downtown Minneapolis English with a Parisian lilt. It wasn't exactly a chaise longue, although it sprawled

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By Kit Reed

The object crouched in the Crandalls' back bedroom, angled into a corner but forever present, the uninvited guest. Nelda hated the thing. She was convinced that it had a mind […]

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