It was peeling from exposure. Its once flat, smooth surface was blistered and split. Its voluptuous, varicose legs were tired. They looked as if they should belong to an old woman who just wanted to go home and sleep. Its four drawers gaped different amounts of indifference. Their handles were dull, sullen rings dangling from the drawers’ bottom lips. The entire thing was decorously marked in red Texta ‘LOT#44’ on its top right hand corner. I had to have it.