Armchair descritive writing

The rosy red armchair sat abandoned in the dark corner. The bottom sagged so low it almost touched the ground. For such an old chair I was surprised that it had no holes in it. As I sit down the chair puffs up around me so much that I think it will pop like a balloon. Dust wafts up around me in a choking grey cloud. I rest my arm on the arm of the chair and stroke it. When it was new it would have felt nice and velvety but now it feels crusty, like bits of food were stuck on it, the longer you sit in the chair the further down you sink until you feel the springs poking into you. The old light bulb flickers as I stand up, the chair sighs as if in relief.

Georgia