The table sat in the middle of the room. The chair sat in the corner of the room beside the window that looked out on the night. The window did not sit; the window only looked.
The table crossed from the middle of the room to the corner opposite the chair. The table sat in the corner opposite the chair and at an oblique angle to the window that did not sit but only looked. Silence prevailed, and darkness prevailed.
The room had no light, but the room also did not have a seeing being nor a sensor in it to need a light. If there were a light, it would have sat on the table that sat in the corner opposite the sitting chair and oblique to the looking window. But there was not a light, so it didn’t sit on the table.
Four walls, a ceiling, and a floor bound the room on six sides. One of the walls–the wall to the left of the table–had a door that had not been opened for many years. How many years no one knew because tables and chairs and windows and non-existent lamps and walls and ceilings and floors and doors and silence and darkness do not know such things. Their secret knowledge is beyond all human comprehension.
The table and the chair sat in the room. The window didn’t.
Originally published November 17, 2023
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You used five paragraphs for this one instead of the usual three; meaning?
The muse became verbose.
“… did the hand then of the potter shake?”
This feels very “The spaceships hung in the air in the same way bricks don’t.” 🙂
I liked the small yet intimate community of table and chair and the light that didn’t join in. And the window that was outside. They know all the secrets yet they are not bitchy like humans. They live to serve. And even when they are abandoned, they silently bear with and wait patiently for the time when time will erase them.
I see what you did there
That’s such an emotive post and image. The chair is waiting for someone important to arrive, which of course he eventually did.