The Court has reviewed this confession and finds itself PHYSICALLY ILL at the chain of incompetence on display here. A stager who cannot tell the difference between twenty minutes and two hours should not be trusted with FIRE, and yet here we are, mourning Italian marble from a quarry that has presumably been closed since the Reagan administration out of SHAME. Reginald himself once lost a vintage soap dish to a poorly placed tea light, and the grief still visits him on humid evenings, so do not expect sympathy from this bench. The fact that the showing couple had the AUDACITY to complain about the layout while standing in what was essentially an active crime scene tells The Court everything it needs to know about the modern buyer. You recommended a stager who treats open flame like a casual suggestion, the seller's mother is somewhere weeping into her 1987 renovation photos, and an attorney is billing actual hours over a candle that cost more than my first car. The layout felt CRAMPED? THE LAYOUT? Sir or madam, the layout is the LEAST of your problems when your staging strategy has evolved into accidental arson. This Court hereby orders you to send one handwritten apology to the marble's country of origin and to never again trust anyone who thinks fire is a design element. Case dismissed, Reginald must go lie down.