I want to sit on that chair and sip a cup of coffee. The other chair will remain empty, absolutely empty. In my imagination I can make anyone sit on that empty chair, a friend, a celebrity, perhaps a stranger, or just my muse. I will have a conversation without words. I will smile but only with my eyes. My coffee cup will get cold but I won’t get up to refill it. The slow lazy winter afternoon will get hazy as evening will descent. I will keep sitting on my chair in silence watching the grass turn dark. The empty chair will slowly get wet with the soft tears of winter. The cold wind will gently pass by sending a shiver down my spine. I will hug myself for warmth. The chill will start setting into my bones. And then with a sigh I will rise from the chair with the unfinished coffee cup in hand to walk down those marked path. I will return to my room. The chair will be empty once again. Once again the chair will wait for someone to come and sit and share their stories with it.