Table

In the living room is a blue table. Tom and his brother are running around wildly, and he ends up painfully stubbing his toe on it. Oh, how furious he is! It’s your fault, he accuses his brother. You’re a stupid table, he says, shoving it. Tom punches the table so hard it hurts his hand, but the anger still won’t go away. He pushes the table onto its side and then flips it upside-down. Now, it doesn’t look like just a table, but something completely different. It’s a car zooming along winding roads; it’s a boat for going shark-watching; it’s a house that gives you shelter.