My dad came home from work and sat on the black leather couch in the living room. He always sat in the same spot. He always looked tired. Every night went the same: first work, then couch until the couch developed a large impression where his butt landed. Until my mom kicked him out. Then I sat in the spot. I was younger then, about eight or nine, so I fell into the spot. It was like falling into a pit. It was like wearing hand-me-downs. When my mom asked to sit in the spot, I said, "No, it's mine." But my mom said I couldn't claim the spot. She said it was a little weird for me to be fixated