That chair was her chair. I remember how she would always sit in it. Legs crossed, arms on the sides, she always stared through the window into the distance. She never told me what she was looking at. Nobody else was ever allowed to sit in that chair. Even now, nobody sits in it, not even my cat. It is just there, empty.

The chair now has more scratches on it. She never cared how the chair looked. She would just sit in it, staring into the distance through the window. Since then I have moved houses twice, but every time I keep the chair. I don’t know why, but I always bring it with me. The kids also want me to keep it, even though it just sits there, in the corner, facing the window. Sometimes, I still see her there, staring out into the distance.