There were readings of romance in the sunlight, gothic novels in the evening when the blinds were down and the lights shone amber. The walls held tropical paintings and engravings of maps. The children loved those maps as were spun tales of adventure, what had been in the past, what might be in the future. Benedict on the carpet would patiently await his ears being rubbed en route to bed.
I wonder where on those long lost maps the children would be found today. Do their young ones have a faithful collie in attendance?
Do we want to save the chair? No. Ghosts take up too much room in our lives.
Thanks to The Mag