Tablecloth.

Sure. You can lean on me. Why not? I mean I had your back since you were having your first drink. Put your greasy chicken wing fingers on my fine linen. Spill that cheap red wine on me. I don’t even mind. I will be there for you.

Sometimes , you put me in the washing machine at 60 degrees, who am I to judge your choice of detergent? My embroidery getting ruined? I have never been an enthusiast of extravagant superficialities. I’ll be there for you.

I mean, I am friends with the table, my companion. Sturdy and unforgiving he endured endless nights. Consequently, many say: why would a tablecloth be needed?

As in life, we all need a Medium to relate to, something that shows us boundaries but at the same time, integrates. And me, I am literally woven with strings, tied together in complex patterns to form a unitary fabric to spill beer on. I don’t even mind what’s on me, I take the stain with pride.

So take me to your wedding, sit on me while having a spontaneous dinner in the park. But think about me once in a while.

Your sincerely and truthfully forever,

Tablecloth.