My Antique Chair The antique chair stood, or rather, sat amongst many others, but was determined to stand out. It was beige, beige with mysterious stains of mysterious things, dotted around, printed on the material. It's once vibrant floral pattern was now just meaningless, cosy scribbles of pastel. It was moth-eaten, and smelt damp, like it had been sleeping in a leaking attic for years on end. The smelly, boring chair was smothered in a thick layer of dust, so thick that if you were to run a finger along it, it would come off covered in grey speckles. The chair had been used, clearly, many a time. Whether for grandad and his morning cuppa, grandma for her knitting session, mum for her only rest of the day, or the baby boy, about to enjoy his episode of Thomas the tank with fish fingers and smiley faces with ketchup. The chair had hidden many objects in the past, collecting torches, Spider-Man action figures, grans cookery book, dads glasses, and the dogs bone. But it's absolute favourite snack? The remote. It would hide it as mum went to make tea, stuffing it under its arm, or whilst everyone was about to settle down to watch telly, for a laugh. The chair's springs were a kind of mystery. Not perfect, by all means, but not completely broken either. Just..... Worn out. A little squeaky here and there. And the chair had stories behind it too, the time where Ben's birthday cake had other plans, leaving a greasy, slightly faded blue mark on the arm. Or the time when the dog wanted a change of scenery whilst weeing, leaving a mysterious mark on the bottom which was often describe to guests as, " That? Oh, that's nothing " Now you may be thinking, who would want a battered, ancient, antique, half broken chair when I could easily get a brand new, real leather, squeaky clean chair? Well, although, it may be a little broken, and no perfect chair, that antique chair has lived. Lived through, Ben's birth, Mum's successful job interview, Rover's...accident, and grandads passing. That antique chair has been there for Kate when she needed a shoulder to cry on(quite literally), when the family needed a backdrop for the annual ugly Christmas jumper picture. That antique chair had been there.