Empty Chair

This is how you can be stupid sometimes:

Sitting in a café, and the chair next to you is empty.

A stranger approaches you and your empty chair. He smiles, makes small talk, and you shoot the crap around for a while. You laugh; he gestures enthusiastically; you make it as if you’ve known each other for a gazillion years. Now, he laughs at some thing you say and you think, he’s actually pretty cute.

Finally, the moment you’ve been dreading comes. You almost see it in slow motion: He lays his hand on the back of your empty chair, asks if he could sit down and join you for a while. He smiles again—he is one good-looking asshole.

You feel the apology arrange itself on your face. You say that you’re waiting for a... friend, and that he is coming anytime soon.

The stranger removes his hand, a slow and controlled maneuver—not unlike how you made sure to enunciate the “he” that’s supposed to arrive soon. Now, he takes a step or two backwards. He says this has been good, that he really has to go anyway. That it was really nice talking with you, though.

You say the same thing, maybe with a little regret. There's nothing left, so you force a wave and he walks away.

You pay attention to your coffee now, maybe light another cigarette. You stay another hour or so, smoking, watching people go by.

And the chair remains empty right until the moment you get up to leave.