Dear Papa Mike,

I'm sorry but this is the end for me. I only leave this note because I feel our shared history at least warrants an explanation. For years we were together, I saw you every morning, you sat with me in the evenings at dinner and told me about your day. Yes, you were never really a natural listener, but at least I knew you cared. Suddenly something changed though, and I don't think it was me.

The sofa now sees more of you then me, you eat your meals in the living room and even skip breakfast, staring at the TV the way you used to look at me. I'm no fool, I may be older then you, but I am not senile just yet. You're avoiding me. I've spoken to my cousin (yes I have a cousin, you would know if you had ever bothered to ask) and she has said I can stay with her until I find somewhere new to live. A kitchen chair needs more then you are willing to offer.

I've taken the stools with me. I will be in contact with you about visitation rights. I know you love them, and would never hurt them intentionally, but when you drink you get unsteady, and I have lost count of the times you have fallen off me when you drag yourself in from a night out. They don't need to be exposed to that kind of behaviour, they're not as stable as myself and the other chairs. I don't know if they could take that. For their sake, I'm going to ask you only see them in the supervision of the table.

I will always love you, but I need time away to gather myself. Maybe one day we can be together again, but you'll need to learn to appreciate the art of sitting down and enjoying meals. Not just taking your plate to whatever room you fancy eating in, whenever you fancy eating.

Your Kitchen Chair