This Final Destination deathtrap sits in my grandmother’s living room. It has for the entirety of the house’s existence, dating back forty some years. The worst part of it is that this blue recliner is the only comfortable chair in the house. The rest are straight-backed dining chair tables and squat, cushy rocking chairs created in the late 60s to dump people backwards out of them, so that visitors actually fight over who gets to sit under that overhead light.
I will probably spend 80% of my weekend in that chair, blithely chatting over cookies and milk and not thinking about it. If you never hear from me again, you know why.