The Empty Chair

Every year, on the same day, she sets five plates. But one always stays empty.

MOTHER: “He never liked the peas…” DAUGHTER: “Mom… he’s not coming

back.” Silence stretches. A clock ticks. The scent of stew lingers in the kitchen

air. MOTHER: “It was his favorite meal. I set it out for

him.” DAUGHTER: “You can’t keep doing this. You’re hurting yourself.”

MOTHER: “I know… but it feels wrong not to. It feels like forgetting.”

The mother’s eyes glisten. She stirs the stew slowly. MOTHER:

“Do you remember how he laughed? That loud, silly laugh?” DAUGHTER (smiling