Eunice Nyarkadem

*The Last Chair*

There was a man who ran a small café. Every evening at 6pm, one chair by the window stayed empty. People asked why he never let anyone sit there.

He said, “I’m waiting.”

Years passed. Rain, sun, busy days, quiet days. The chair stayed empty. He’d wipe it down, put a fresh flower on the table, and wait.

One evening, an old friend walked in. Tired eyes, heavy shoulders. He looked at the empty chair and said, “Is this still for me?”

The café owner nodded, poured two teas. They didn’t say much. Just sat. The friend cried quietly. The owner just stayed.

When the friend left, the chair wasn’t empty anymore. It had held someone. It had done what it was made for.

The owner still keeps the chair by the window. Not because he’s still waiting. But because he learned: some chairs aren’t empty. They’re just saving space for the people who need to be held, even for one evening.

*End.*