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Ah, Chapter Five! I’ll never forget an estate sale I went to at a 1970’s-style house, full of knick-knacks and furniture, all somewhat nice, but all overpriced.
In the center of the living room there sat a Chair, proudly and in a place of glory, with a price tag like everything else. Not a “Free” sign. It wasn’t out by the curb for garbage day.
Because on that chair, there were stains. STAINS, on the head and arm rests! As if it were no big deal! As if no one would notice or care! What tales could that chair have told? Clearly, it had been someone’s favorite.
Smith and Jones wouldn’t feel revulsion at its appearance, no. Quite the opposite. Infinity. Chapter five was so much fun to write, and it was one of those chapters that if you happened to be walking by my house when I wrote it, you would have heard me gleefully cackling.
Lastly, in my original text, whenever I wrote The Chair I had it in French Script font, thusly:
I liked the way it conveyed how Smith and Jones felt about that chair. Unfortunately, it messed up the spacing of the sentences, so with an ever-so-slightly-broken heart, we went with italics instead.
And that is the tale of The Chair. And The Race to get it.