There was this triangular shaped stool I loved so much. I loved the concept of it having three legs instead of the conventional four. I wouldn’t want to call it an idol, but I cherished it with every fibre in me. I let no one touch or use it. I had just returned from school, and I was glad I found my stool just as I left it. The norm was that my siblings will take it out and abandon it when they’re done with it, and I’ll come back ranting and shouting at them.
As usual, I brought out the stool to use, and as soon as I sat on it, it gave way and I came crashing down, my butt hitting the ground. In my usual unobservant manner, I didn’t realize that one of the legs had broken a little and was just waiting for an external force to perfect the breaking process. My most cherished stool caused me a terrible sprain. How sad.
Continue reading THE THREE LEGS OF INTIMACY