The friendly, bearded, ponytailed, slightly overweight British guy grins when he sits on my old couch. "Yeah, it's gonna be for my office, so when people stay late they can crash," he says, thumping the cushions and arms like it's a big, brown dog.
After he's paid me and left to go rent a car, I tip it up on its back to remove the feet so I can fit it out the door.
Katie watches with concern as I unscrew the boxy wooden legs, and says, "Are you sure this is okay?"
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