Help Back Summer Regions
I was watching Soovin Kim on the TV and I had failed to notice that behind me the leaves were plummeting. I had planned to grab a camera and film the year’s first big nature dump, but it just wasn’t happening. There were tendrils like steaming pipes poking out of the sofa, and although at night nobody slept on it as a futon, the cat sometimes showed unhealthy amounts of lethargy there. Why hadn’t anybody been notified? I had been sitting on this mutant furniture for at least an hour, less transfixed by the screen than by what was going on in the emotional cocktail I’d been idly stirring, my eyes softly focusing on the leaves outside gently sifting through themselves. So it was like that, then: roots and tubers. I went out back to fetch the garden shears, and when I returned I was surprised to see the wooden framework behind the couch was gone, leaving the large cushion suspended midair in a 110-degree angle. When somebody else got home, they’d see me standing at the window, the floor blanketed by the futon’s entrails. Restraint is a wonderful thing.
