It's 2:17 a.m. and the chair in the corner is still empty.
I've been sitting here for a while, phone in my lap, screen dim. The room is quiet except for the hum of the fridge down the hall. I keep glancing at the chair like it might have changed, like something might have shifted while I wasn't looking.
It hasn't.
But I still check.
Sometimes I wonder if I'm waiting for something to happen. Sometimes I wonder if I'm just afraid of being alone with my own thoughts for too long. The chair doesn't care either way.
It's just there.