Sometimes memories seep out of my earplugs when I'm walking to work. Last week, one of them was about Emily. She had the peculiar habit of rearranging people's furniture when she overstayed her visit – it was always a bold, inexplicable move. I remember the first time she redid the layout of my living room, swapping the couch with the coffee table and declaring it 'more conversational'. It looked like a post-hurricane aftermath. At least her attempts usually ended with a better understanding of our relationship's peculiar dynamics: sometimes you just have to accept people will move the chairs while you're trying to watch Netflix.
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