The Green Armchair: Introduce a Narrator and Order Events

The Green Armchair

1My name is Marisol, and on Saturdays I help my grandmother at Ochoa Upholstery, her small shop on Pine Street. Abuela fixes old chairs and sofas by giving them new padding and new fabric. The shop smells like sawdust and coffee, and rolls of cloth lean against every wall like tall, sleepy guests.

2Last Saturday, a man named Mr. Fenn carried in a lumpy green armchair. Its fabric was torn, and one spring poked up through the seat. "My mother has sat in this chair for fifty years," he said. "Her ninetieth birthday is next Sunday, and I want to surprise her with it."

3Abuela ran her hand over the worn arm and nodded. "One week is enough," she said. "Marisol will help." I gulped. I had never worked on a whole chair before. "Don't worry," Abuela said, patting my shoulder. "You have watched me do this a hundred times."

4First, we pulled out hundreds of tiny tacks that held the old fabric in place. I dropped each one into an old coffee can so none would get lost on the floor. My fingers ached by lunchtime. Under the fabric, we found flat, crumbly padding and a spring that had slipped loose. Abuela showed me how to tie the spring back into place with strong twine.

5On Wednesday, we laid fresh foam on the seat and covered it with soft cotton batting. Then came the best part. Mr. Fenn had brought a new green fabric that matched the old one, and Abuela let me pull it tight while she stapled it to the wooden frame.

6On Friday afternoon, Mr. Fenn came back. When he saw the chair, he laughed out loud. He ran his hand over the smooth new fabric and sat down carefully. "It looks just the way it did when I was a boy," he said. I smiled the whole way home, already wondering which chair we would fix next.