If you were to ask the big green armchair about what a life with Tiny was like, it would tell you that there was no place it would rather be in this world. It might tell you about the sweet sticky aftermath of many an afternoon tea, or the heavenly scent of a sleepy Penny-dog, like sunbeams streaming through a warm dusty hayloft. It might excitedly repeat stories of swash-buckling pirates or intergalactic space-adventurers; or show you the countless stains of too many tears, colored with sadness, joy, and injustice. But mostly it would ask you to trust, and surrender, and fall into its large loving arms; until peace has been restored and all cares have simply melted away. 

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