This week’s prompt was a departure from our usual and was right out of WD’s favorite blogger’s weekly newsletter: You come home from work to find a Dear John letter on the kitchen table. Oddly enough it’s from your favorite piece of furniture.

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Dear John Letter from My Favorite Piece of Furniture

I returned home from work exhausted, and ready to relax on my favorite couch.

Taking off my shoes, I poured a glass of Chardonnay and head to the couch.

What? I dropped the wine on the new Turkish rug I had saved so long to buy.

The couch was gone, utterly gone! How could that be? No door was unlocked, no window broken. I looked around where the couch should have been and noticed an envelope with my name on the front .Picking it up, I began to read.

Dear Mary,

I seem to no longer be your favorite piece of furniture. You just go on and on about the new rug. Well, I’ve had it!

The couch next door has been after me for over a year to elope with him, but I thought you would miss me too much. Now I see I have wasted the year over someone that does not care.

Consider this your Dear John letter. I hope you will be very happy with the rug.

I hate to tell you this, but the rug doesn’t think you are worthy of him.

Good luck

Your used to be favorite couch.

By Mary Hanley

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Dear Elly,

I’m going back to Italy–Sorrento to be exact. You were going to use me, yes me, the inlaid rosewood desk, to write your novels on. Now you do it on a domestic oak desk. I feel insulted being upstaged by a domestic, built in Phoenix oak desk. Yes, I know it has a pull-out shelf for the keyboard and a file drawer. I realize that is convenient. But look at me, with a highly shiny varnish and brass handles and décor. Remember the sales man at the inlaid wood factory who was so outrageously handsome he could have talked himself right into your knickers. Remember what you paid for me, over one million liras. How excited you were when you got back on the tour bus and showed everyone your brass key.

Now I sit in the front room, my drawers full of papers, old bills and costume jewelry. Yes, costume jewelry, not even the good stuff.

All I can say is adios, auf Wiedersehen and cio, I’m returning to where I’m appreciated, good old Sorrento.

By Ellynore Smith