The Chair: Third Person

The Chair: Third Person

Wearily his body makes its way along the familiar path to his nightly destination.

The tattered green upholstery masks the comfort and quality of this special place where all his thinking occurs.

Years of sitting, years of quietly contemplating private memories, years of getting lost in the mindless distractions of sitcoms, game shows, and the evening news; the chair has come to know each of his body’s fragile curves.

Time and time again he has spent evenings wasting his time allowing the television to do his thinking for him. Lately, however, the distractions have not worked their magic. Time and time again the thoughts of his life and his loneliness have crept back into plain view.

The choices one makes to find peace and tranquility become the very choices that mark ones life full of regrets.

And as he battles between forgetting and becoming numb, he sips his glass of vodka waiting for sleep to consume him.

For a moment he is free, free until a news bulletin interrupts his lack of concentration and focuses his attention on all things family, all things worth loving.

A child speaks briefly about a tragic loss, a fire that has consumed his parent’s home.

Although more will follow on the evening news, the sound of desperation in this child’s voice was all that it took to cause the tears to well up in the old man’s eyes.