Friday night at last.  Home at last.  I dumped my briefcase by the door and headed into the living room.  “Hey love.”

“Hey sweetie,” my wife called from the overstuffed chair with ornately carved arms and legs.

I looked at her and sighed.  “Why are you sitting there?”

“Your great-uncle’s chair is super comfortable, and it has the best viewing spot for the TV.”

“And you know what happens if I say the phrase.”

She grinned at me impishly.  “I do.”

“And?”

Her grin just grew wider.

“You’re in my chair,” I said imperiously, and watched as the love of my life dwindled.  Her limbs pulled into her torso so swiftly it left her slippers on the floor in front of the chair.  Moments later her head sank out of sight into her cardigan.  With a familiar sigh, I paced over to the chair and gave her cardigan a shake.  A simple silken pillow the colour of her creamy white skin tumbled out.  In the middle of it was her face, grinning up at me.

I knew it felt nice to be a pillow, we’d had great