It has occurred to her that she is a hallway girl.
Not a room to lounge in but a passage from one room to the next,
serving no purpose beyond transition.
A portal to travel to a more desirable place.
No one will ever watch the T.V. or cook a meal,
just use her on their voyage to where the music plays in grand chambers of walnut and marble.
She hopes for nothing more fantastic than the presence of a leather sofa.
She knows that no one lingers so long as to need furniture in a hallway.