Chairs.

“This chair has seen everything,” he said.

“It watched me through university. It was in my first apartment and then my second. It knows what my roommates did in my absence: things they don’t want me to know about. It knows my friends well and now it knows you. This chair has seen my different houses, relationships, and jobs: it was a constant.”

The tattered office chair sat on the street by the overflowing garbage bins. Translucent flecks appeared as the drizzle landed on its frayed surface.

He gripped her hand as the truck approached to take the trash away.