Bridget’s Table ~ Camilla Basham She can finally get a table: round, maybe, or square like her mother’s

, 4 chairs; maybe Crate and Barrel, maybe Pottery Barn. No, more like some tiny little antique shop that she stumbles upon after wine among the gays and the crouching homeless in the Haight. Yes, that’s more like it. And upon the table: her scented candles shall have a home, her cats a place to jump upon only to be scolded. Her computer shall find level ground in which to house her words, her dreams, her friends, her fears. Vegetables: green, fresh, organic, shall sit upon her porcelain platter neighboring her fragile wine glass; all in a corner, beneath a window sill, where the sun comes in through the fog, illuminating her future. She can finally get a table.

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