When I leave the room the furniture gossips,
the sofa sighs loudly about “carrying the team”,
the lamp flickers dramatically like it’s in a noir film,
and the toaster reheats old arguments from 2019.
The kettle practices opera when no one is watching,
the fridge hums backup vocals out of tune,
the broom keeps bragging about “sweeping changes”,
and the clock rolls its eyes because it’s tired of time.
Meanwhile the spoon is plotting a quiet rebellion,
the mug is convinced it’s the emotional support hero,
and the remote control hides under the couch again
just to feel something.
