Date: 15/06/2025
Every evening, she set two cups of tea on the balcony.
One for her. One for the empty chair beside her.
Neighbors thought she was strange. But she was just in love — with a memory.
Her husband had passed away 3 years ago. Yet, she spoke to the chair like he never left.
One day, I asked, “Doesn’t it make you sad?”
She smiled. “It keeps me warm. Grief is cold. Memory is warmer.”
Since then, I never feared empty chairs. I saw them as places love once sat, and sometimes, still does.
Rajat Chandra Sarmah
Guwahati, Assam, India
musingofrajat.wordpress.com 