Couch

Aftermath (Bad Ending)

To put it simply, a lot of things have happened in these past four years.

Within days of moving in our new house, I heard the term "move back" be used a bit. That term's usage was mostly from Sophie, in an attempt to convince everyone that the old house was still better. Claus' financial problems were solved, and moving back would have been the best option if another family hadn't quickly bought the house from us as soon as we put it up for sale. At least the smaller house didn't cause these problems, so I hoped nothing else would come up.

The third of my weekly cleanings were unwisely done with the wrong type of bleach, which has made many of my cushions have a constant stinging feeling. Apparently, it also permanently changed the color of all those cushions. Since then, my cushions were taken somewhere to get cleaned. It took about a day per week. I could never get used to strange feeling of not feeling anyone sit on me for that long.

I eventually learned what forced us to move. (Not that I know everything it means. I'll just say what I've pieced together in hopes that you'll understand.) Claus' twin brother, Luke, has been tagging onto Claus' bank account since they were about 25. Claus forgot about it a while later, and was unknowingly spending the same money as his brother (he bought me with that money) until Luke finally got his own job and bank account. This went on for the majority of the time I was in the house, and it probably reached the lowest point within a month of the family meeting that led to moving.

In a way, I'm glad for them that they made the decision to move to a less expensive house. There was more money to spend on vacations and other things. But even after two or three years passed, I could still tell that no one was 100% satisfied with their new life. For example, the kids had to share a bedroom for many months, until Sydney left for an even higher school, which they called "college." She hasn't come back yet. (At least, not to this house. The others might have met up with her somewhere.) I don't think my existence was helping anything either. My cleanings were treated as a burden. The bleach stain was still permanent. I was repositioned below an air vent, which made me somewhat dusty. I was gradually sat on less and less because of how much colder it was in this corner of the house.

At that point, one of the only things that made me genuinely happy was Pillow. She seemed more or less unbothered by all the changes taking place. Almost every day, she would have her usual nap on her usual cushion, and sometimes use my arm as a scratching post. Her soft and gradually-growing body gave me a reminder of why I have spent the last few years with this family. I never wanted her to not be with me anymore. But I haven't felt the cat hair roller in a while.

Another family meeting happened recently, called by Sophie. It was only her, Claus, and Rustle. It was the last Siton family meeting I know about, likely because it was announcing her purchase of a new couch. Something happened to me throughout the next day. The next and last new thing I felt was the texture of cold, hard ground beneath my feet.