You're not sure what you expected to see in a silly looking 'magic' shop, but it wasn't furniture. Much less immaculately detailed, stained and waxed furniture. Much less furniture this cheap--for a broke 20-something trying to get by, it's a deal you LITERALLY cannot pass off. Sure, you don't /need/ a dresser... but you are getting kind of tired of picking your clean clothes from the clean laundry basket.
The store owner didn't help you move it, but you managed okay. The moving isn't the important part, really, aside from how impressive it is that you were even able to accomplish it on your own (hint: there was lots of swearing)! The important part is that it's here, in your room, shining, perfect...
...and now it's time to fold all your clothes.
While you're putting everything away, the words printed beside the price tag still linger in your head. Something crazy about the clothes you put in fitting perfectly, every time. What? Obviously if you put your own clothes in, they'd fit perfectly, that's such a ridiculous tagline.
You're still thinking about it, though, even as you put the last piece of laundry in. Yours AND your partner's--they're going to be so surprised when they get home! You're going to have to explain how you got it... and explain that dumb selling point... ... ...
With a huff, you reach in, your head yelling at you to debunk this ridiculous thought so you can stop thinking about it. You pull out one of your partner's socks, slip it over your hand... and pull it off, your partner's dainty foot in its place. You flex your 'fingers'. Their--your?--toes scrunch.
You slump down against your bed, staring at the dresser, eyes wide. You peer inside again, eyeing over YOUR clothes and THEIR clothes. Socks and garments and tops and bottoms and underwear, accessories...
All of which will now 'fit' you perfectly...
You scrunch your 'fingers'. Oh boy. You hope you have gloves in there.