SOFA TEA SIDE TABLE : SIDE TABLE
Sofa Tea Side Table : Bistro Tables And Bar Stools : Country French Sofa Table.
Sofa Tea Side Table
- A table placed at the side of a room or apart from the main table
- Any table designed to stand against a wall.
- Small accent table used for display, which is usually placed either against a wall or aside from the principal table. (See table)
- Any table built with the intention of displaying only one side. Side table normally have one unfinished side that is meant to be placed against a wall or another piece of furniture. They are often semi-circular or rectangular in shape.
- The SOFA (Standards of Fundamental Astronomy) software libraries are a collection of subroutines that implement official IAU algorithms for astronomical computations.
- A Status of Forces Agreement (SOFA) is an agreement between a host country and a foreign nation stationing forces in that country. SOFAs are often included, along with other types of military agreements, as part of a comprehensive security arrangement.
- A long upholstered seat with a back and arms, for two or more people
- an upholstered seat for more than one person
- Such a drink served cold with ice cubes
- a tropical evergreen shrub or small tree extensively cultivated in e.g. China and Japan and India; source of tea leaves; "tea has fragrant white flowers"
- A hot drink made by infusing the dried, crushed leaves of the tea plant in boiling water
- The dried leaves used to make such a drink
- a light midafternoon meal of tea and sandwiches or cakes; "an Englishman would interrupt a war to have his afternoon tea"
- a beverage made by steeping tea leaves in water; "iced tea is a cooling drink"
“Don’t go,” the woman said.
“I feel that I have to,” the man said.
“But I’ve got no one else,” she said, “Think about what’s going to happen to me.”
“I don’t know. But you’re woman now. I can’t stay around here,” he said.
On the coffee table were two cups that had coffee which had gone lukewarm and acidic while they sat and talked. It was winter and the man wore a large flannel around his shoulders. The woman sat across from him wrapped up in blankets. In between was a bag full of the the man’s clothes and belongings.
“Why?” the woman asked. Her fingers gripped the end of the arm rest of the sofa as she waited for the response. The man leaned back into the cushion of the sofa and pulled his hands upwards, from his knee to his thighs, both of his feet were firm on the ground.
“Is it her? That woman who keeps trying to reach you? Just tell me. It’s okay. I don’t care about that anymore. Just give me a reason. You owe me this, I deserve better. One damn reason,” she said. She had raised her voice and spoke very fast.
The man leaned forward and put his face in his hands. After a few seconds, he looked back up and stared vacantly on the contents of the table in front of him: two tea cups on saucers, a kettle, a note pad, the telephone. The room was silent except for the rain which struck the roof and the gentle hum of the light above them.
“After all these years, you’re still holing on that,” the man said, “You don’t understand at all. That was years ago and she’s long dead. I had already forgotten.”
“Then tell me,” the woman said.
“You….you’re wonderful, who you are. But this is it for me. What you see right here, this is it. There’s nothing more. And I don’t think I want anything more.”
“But you’re not like that. I know you’re like that. When I first met you, you were –”
“No. This is it. I’m not sure of anything anymore. But I know that this is it. I can’t stay here anymore.”
The man finished the lukewarm and bitter coffee. “You don’t need me for what you have.” He got up and walked to the window. His breath fogged a section of the glass pane and he wiped it clear with the back of his fingers. It left small streaks of droplets. “I’ll leave tomorrow when the rain lets up and they open the bridge.”
The woman who had been sitting in the chair across from the sofa as the man stood by the window, took the cups to the sink and rinsed them out. They were small white porcelain cups which they bought together at a yard sale on the first day that they moved in. The house had been completely empty and they had nothing. She had always brought them out on rainy days when she was home. “Where are you going to be staying?”
“I don’t know,” the man said.
After putting the cups away, the woman walked towards the man. She put her arms around him, clasped her fingers together around his stomach and leaned her face into the middle of his back. His shirt was warm. She had forgotten the feel of its texture on her face, it was like the inside lining of worn winter blankets. It was warm but thick enough that he couldn’t feel the drops that soaked into his back as she held him.
By morning, the rain had stopped and the water receded from the sides of the bridge. The man was gone for a few miles already and was in a small restaurant on the edge of the neighboring town. It was a clear day and from the window, he could see that the birds were returning to the river edges.
The man called the waiter over and asked him to refill his cup. “I’m sorry, but this is the last one that’s on the house. You’re going to have to pay after this,” the waiter said.
“That’s alright. This is my last and I’ll be leaving after this,” the man said as he placed two quarters onto the counter. The waiter took the coins and dropped them into the front pocket of his apron and poured the man another cup.”
“Where are you headed?” the waiter asked.
“How do you know I’m headed anywhere?” the man said.
“Well, we don’t get to many locals in a place like this. Everyone who comes in is either going somewhere or on their way back from somewhere. So I figured you were the same. Sorry if I was wrong, but if you’re from around here, I haven’t seen you around.”
“I’m going to Blue Ridge Mountains.”
“That’s quite a drive. I’ve been there once. My dad and brother and I camped there when I was a kid. If I remember, it’s more than just a day’s drive and goes all the way to Pennsylvania.”
“I think I’ve got some time,” the man said. “Well, I’ll be going now. Thanks.” He stood up and pair for the rest of his meal.
“Sure thing. You take care.”
The man drove slowly through the town. It was a Saturday and people were sleeping still. Occasionally there were small lights through the windows or the lonely car on their way to way to somewhere just likes him. He thought about turning back home where she was. He thought about her lying in bed by herself. He thought about it hard until he couldn't see the road anymore. So he sped up until he reached the morning highway and he coul
Kita likes to sleep in my lap once or twice a day. He often attends my English classes (1-4 students in my livingroom) and sits an listens for a while and then curls up on my lap - he's too big to fit in my lap anymore - My students are all completely awed by this. They've never seen a cat treated that way before. I have a group of 4 young lady students now, college students, and none of them have ever touched a cat before! Kita is teaching them!
Today one of those gals did not come to class and when I came out of the kitchen Kita was sitting in the chair that gal usually sits in and looking like he was holding court. I stopped and listened and some of them were giggling, one was talking with Kita. When I asked what they were talking about she explained that Kita had asked her where the absent girl was today, so she was telling him!
Kita was altered two and a half weeks ago and I think I'm seeing some changes in his personality. Several times a day he comes to me in perfect sweetness, gently being affectionate and clearly saying 'I love being close to you.' This is new. I think he is napping more by himself than he used to, not always curled up with Taj.
He still initiates all sorts of explorative and sometimes naughty things but without the intense, persistant drive he had before. I think, in several ways, he is somewhat softer in personality than before.
Kita still has his same job position as he had when he arrived here late in November. He is the Ambassador of Joy. He tells me many times a day how much fun or how wonderful something is. When the doorbell rings he runs from wherever he is to be the first to reach our side of the door. He makes sure that each person is fully greeted and welcomed. While I make tea for the students or guests Kita talks to them out loud, obviously regarding each individually. Now some of them talk out loud to Kita too.
Kita likes complexity. He never plays with just one toy but gets two together or involves one with a shoe or piece of furniture. Sometimes he doen't even come for a meal right away if he is deeply involved in doing some complex investigation. He cares less about food than Carney did and much less than Taj does.
Unlike Taj Kita does not have a favorite toy - he'd prefer to get way up high on something or climb inside some strange place. I think his favorite 'thing' is people. He always, always knows what I am doing. He never leaves the scene if someone else is here visiting. He even enjoys sleeping under the table, among the feet of my students. In many ways Kita is much more like the great dogs of my life than my previous cats.
He is big and going to get bigger. I agree with LaRoute who recently said it is sad to see him grow so much, so fast. I tried to get him to slow down and be a kitten longer, but Kita is ambitious, easily bored and wants to be the first to greet the next new thing life brings him.
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