It creaks softly, longing for the warmth of a body it once knew intimately. "In every seat, a story, but mine's written in shivers and sighs."
"Time is a river, flowing away not caring for the strokes of minutes, but I..." it murmurs, "I am the pool, stagnant yet eternal."
"Once I held warmth, now only the chill of solitude. Secrets brewed stronger than coffee, I was emptied too soon."