30 minutes on the clock.
Writing Prompt: A man comes home from work one evening to find that his couch is missing. Where did it go? (source)
At promptly 6:02 pm, just as every other night of the past 14 years, Reginald burst open the oversized door of his oversized home and blustered his oversized self inside with the wind and leaves. It was a bitter cold autumn day, he was simply exhausted and could think of nothing better than an evening at home in his study with a good book. He quickly hung up his coat and hat on the brass coat rack in the great stone entryway and lugged himself up the stairs to his dressing room. He bustled about, changing into his favorite flannel jammies (as his mumsy always called them), a great navy velour robe, and stout brown loafers. Once he considered himself to be quite cozy, he made his way to his grand kitchen. Reginald had a particular love of fine cuisine and fancied himself a bit of a chef. His culinary talents were somewhat limited however, to only breakfast foods. He whipped up a batch of homemade Belgium waffles with a light cinnamon sauce (his mumsy's recipe, naturally) and a big pot of hot cocoa, with just a little nip of schnapps. He artfully arranged his feast on a tray and carried it into his most beloved room of his home, the study.
This study could rival any public library for the content it housed on its great cherry shelves, which naturally line all four walls of the room, interrupted only by the doorway and great fireplace. Reginald was proud of all of the furnishings in this room, as he had hand picked each of them with love and finesse; the great glass-topped cherry wood desk with an overstuffed, oxblood red tufted leather chair, the finely crafted antique globe and stand, the Baroque-period coffee table, and the great elk antlers mounted above his fireplace. However, there was one piece of furniture he prized more highly than all of the others; his couch. Now, this was no ordinary couch and he had paid astronomically for it, but never regretted its purchase for a minute. It was a fine oversized (of course) cherry wood couch with a supple curved back that flowed into curved arms that continued to its dainty curved legs. It was the stuffed to perfection and when Reginald sat on it, it enveloped him like one of his mumsy's hugs in its rich, red velvet cushions. It was rumored that it had once graced the halls of Buckingham Palace and that the Queen thought it to be a monstrosity, antique or not, and had it tossed out with the trash. When he first saw her, Reginald thought whomever would discard this beautiful couch had to be bonkers and he was more than happy to shell out any fee to the antiquities dealer to take her home. Once he got her home, he took to calling her Bianca, and chatting with her about his day as he ate his dinner and smoked his pipe.
As Reginald used his oversized bottom to open his study door, he did not see that something was amiss in his dearest of rooms. He set his tray down on the coffee table that was always used as his dinner table and made to plop down on Bianca. Much to his shock and dismay, his bottom landed with a thud and the books in the room shifted and settled as his great girth hit the floor. As a dust settled in the room, Reginald was completely still on the floor. Where was his beloved Bianca? He began to look about the room from his spot on the floor to see if anything else had been stolen (for obviously, this was the only explanation) and found not a single thing to be out of place. And then, he was overcome with emotion and sat there, where his beloved Bianca should be holding him, and cried his eyes out. He cried for his mumsy who he missed dearly, cried for his loneliness and the cruelty he faced every day, cried for his Bianca, and cried for the sad fact that his couch was his only true friend and it couldn't even talk.
After some time he had quite cried himself out and became quiet and sniffly, sitting there on the floor much like a child who has just finished a proper tantrum. He then heard a very delicate sound of a lady clearing her throat. He was immediately alarmed for all sorts of reasons, not the least of which that he thought someone had seen him crying and that it could be the diabolical burglar who stole his precious Bianca. He hoisted himself up off of the floor and peaked his head into the hallway, and what he saw took his breath away. Standing there in front of him was a very oversized, voluptuous woman in a red velvet dress, with cherry red hair. She approached Reginald very slowly and lifted one finger to his cheek and lovingly wiped away a tear. Then she spoke, "Hello dear, I am Bianca." and with that, wrapped him in the sweetest, loving hug Reginald had ever experienced.
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