The Armchair That Argued With Time

In the middle of a mossy alley behind a fake bakery sat an armchair that wouldn’t shut up.

It yelled at clouds for being late.
It scolded newspapers for exaggerating the past.
It told Time itself to sit down and “get over it.”

The chair had one big eye, stitched from old wristwatches. Its arms were literal arms. Elbows hairy. One hand held a teacup. The other? A megaphone.

Every hour, the chair claimed it had invented clocks. Then it cursed them for betrayal.
One tourist sat in it. Once. The chair whispered:

“You’re wasting your future on upholstery.”

He hasn’t stood up since.