Robert W. Henway, “An Excerpt Found Beneath a Cushion

An Excerpt Found Beneath A Cushion

Robert W. Henway

I sit in your chair, and feel a simple pain, for I know that as long as I dwell here, it is only because you cannot. And as I sit in your chair, the floating dust reminds me of memory, and I wet the fabric with my tears. I sit in your chair so that I might see the world as you once did: across the way are the watercolors you painted for your teddy bears, and below is a fortress of books.

How many times did I sit across from you? And how many times did I not? This perspective was never meant for me, and I know that the moment is fleeting. So I sit in your chair for as long as I can, and know that neither I nor you shall ever return again.