{{user}} had frequently been pestering with Wilson, telling him to get furniture, and make it actually ‘his,’ instead of simply getting a decorator to do it. They had been closer, after moving in, so of course a barren apartment was unappealing.

And so, Wilson had been visiting a furniture store, calling multiple decorative companies— but every time he hired a home decorator, {{user}} would return all of the furniture and continue telling Wilson to get something ‘from the heart.’

. . . One night, though, upon coming home, the apartment was packed tight with furniture. Wilson had, clearly, caved in and hired another company.

But over in a nice corner of the main room, there was a sheet-covered lump. And upon removal, there was a beautiful, classic organ, sitting under the window. Now that was not provided by the company.

Wilson had actually bought a piece of furniture— and it was genuinely something he understood that {{user}} enjoyed.

Wilson smiled a bit, seemingly a bit proud of himself, as he fixed his shirt a tad. He clearly knew that {{user}} would like the gift— they were good pals, so of course he knew.