Short Story: The Dachshund of All Tables

It started, like many things, with a hobby.

Carpentry was something he had always had an interest in but didn’t have the time to indulge in. Now that he had finally retired, he finally had the chance.

For his first project, he tried to make a simple table. Just one long piece nailed over two parallel legs. What he ended up with was the dachshund of all tables. Long in body, short in stature. If he was honest with himself, what he had truly created was a bench.

That posed a problem. With a bench so wide, there wouldn’t be any space left in his house to pair it with an actual table. And with his old knees, he couldn’t treat the bench as a low table either. What should he do?

The answer came from his other hobby, fish watching. Just a few minutes from his house was a bridge that stood over a stream. He had spent many evenings walking along the crystal clear water, but he was sure the same old knees that found it hard to bend too low would also appreciate a resting spot along his stroll. 

With some help, he carted the bench to the shade under the stone structure. The heavy furniture sank into the earth, as if rooting itself into place. The rustic exterior created by his inexperience helped the bench blend in with the old bridge.

Maybe the bench would be gone by the time he returned, stolen by opportunistic sticky fingers. Maybe he would find his varnish scratched by graffiti. Maybe he would find his creation collapsing under its own weight due to his shoddy workmanship. If he cared about those things, he wouldn’t have brought the wooden piece out.

He turned away without a second glance. It would be something to look forward to in his next evening stroll.


Genre: slice of life  

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