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The round, wooden side table was very, very old and it was handmade. It was oak and its dark stain had gotten even darker over the years. The table's design was simple and useful: round top routed on the edges; a drawer cleverly curved to follow the table's lines, blending into the top's skirting; and a single pedestal with three simply curving legs at the bottom.

One of the legs had been ham-fistedly re-glued a few decades past. The top had a few rings where drinks had been set without the careful use of a coaster. The drawer's brass pull had come off and now rattled around in its empty drawer, which was never opened anyway because it tended to stick in humid weather.

The little round table sat in the sun next to a plastic folding table that held all $1 items. There was an orange sticker on the top that read, in black Sharpie, $25/OBO.