It's me, and the velvet green, wood carved sofa I fell in crush with. I sat on it, and was pleased. I sat across from it and was even more enamored. I can't explain. We're just meant to be, but not. We are star-crossed. It's nothing to do with Mister Foo being a fur artist, or with us not needing a sofa, or them wanting money for it... it's something more romantic, more fateful. It's a poignant tragedy, for the ages. Another life. What may have been. Alas. Sigh. Swoon.