I fell asleep in IKEA. I couldn’t help myself. The store was warm, cozy, and the chair like a feather bed. IKEA named the chair Stocksund. They should have named it for me. I’d closed my eyes and allowed the mellow elevator music to wrap me like a blanket.
I don’t know how long I had been there when the assistant woke me. He offered me a cup of chalky coffee in a plastic, reusable cup before leading me from the store. I should have asked for a spare packing box. The overnight rain had reduced my home to cardboard scraps.