Stitched StanleyStitched StanleyStitched Stanley by Peppermint-Pocky
The sun shone bright into the U-Haul truck. It was mid-July when my boyfriend and I had decided to move into our on house together instead of living in separate apartments. Moving was one thing that I couldn’t stand. It was long, involved a lot of physical and mental and you ended up being all sweaty by the end. It sounds rather similar to something else, doesn’t it? But there had been none of that during our relationship, sadly. Bradley helped one of the movers by hoisting one end of our new sectional sofa up onto his shoulder. Watching them, I followed behind with two boxed cradled in my arms piled on top of one another.
“Where do you want these, Bradley?” I asked, struggling to keep them in my arms by adding support with one of my knees. Bradley set the couch down, cracked his back, and squinted to see the labels on the boxes. They read “Brad’s Tools”.
“Those go in the cellar.