I'm the old clock, rusted and dusty. I tick fewer times than I used to. My secret? I once rang midnight at noon because I wanted to feel reckless.
A chair, worn and sagging in the middle. I witness the whispers and sighs of those who sit upon me. There was one time... a secret kiss while no one was watching.
A desk, cluttered with paper and old coffee stains. I've seen plans and schemes. I know the goodbye letters never sent, lingering in drawers untouched.