I’m Just a Corner Guy by Terveen Gill

Corners attract me. It’s been like this since I was five.

Being punished became my sole motive in life.

Bad boy! Go stand in the corner!

The first time I cried, but soon realized that corners are much more than they are made out to be. There’s a peace in that tiny space.

It’s also called a vertex.

I learned to squeeze myself into its comfort. Press my nose into that line and rest my head upon the adjoining two surfaces.

It was as if I was suspended in space. A freedom that set me free and gave me the chance to imagine.

It began with unicorns and then advanced to gremlins. Soon enough I had my own island and was the Prince of Censper, a place where everyone could be anything they dreamed of.

My passion for corners moved with me wherever I went.

At school, I grabbed the desk nearest to the corner and slowly shifted its position. Easing myself into the gap till some nincompoop tattled on me.

Henry’s not sitting with the class. Look he’s crammed into the corner.

I’m sure you can guess the remaining story.

As I grew in height, weight, and intellect, my fetish for corners entered a new dimension. I wanted to spend every minute in any corner I could find.

Significant occasions seemed incomplete without squishing into one.

My first date, my eighteenth birthday, college graduation.

Some would stare, some openly mutter, but the center of my world was an enchanted corner.

I met my wife in one. She didn’t mind when I finally proposed with my back and butt jammed into an ornately decorated tight spot.

Yet I now sit in the favorite corner of my home staring at the freshly delivered divorce papers.

Apparently, my wife wanted a man who was more well-rounded. Stiff edges aren’t her thing.

Unfortunately, I’m just a corner guy.