The quiet drama of an empty chair

ADB-160401#169

There is a tension in an empty seat, especially a red, fold-up chair.

This chair could be a piece of garbage or a fond, personal throne.

It could be an invitation or a territorial warning.

If I sit down, will someone come and chastise me or welcome me?

What if it’s a trap? A way to divert me from my current path. It looks comfortable enough, but may be unstable.

Will it screech under my weight and draw attention?

Will I get dirty looks from the passers-by? “Who’s that schmuck in the red chair? What gives him the right to take a break from the endless hustle?”

Will it let me rest and get stronger, or will it make me soft and vulnerable?

It could be a curse, an omen, a warning to never settle, to never stop, to never trust the world’s offerings.

It could be a reminder to stand out, to take a break every once in a while, to be an observer.

Or it could just be a red, fold-up chair.