Chairs That Stay Empty

There are chairs that stay empty. Not because they were never filled, but because no one asks where the person went. They stop showing up and somehow, it becomes normal. We adjust to the silence like it’s furniture. Nobody says, "Where is he?" Nobody says, "She’s not okay." We let people slip through cracks and call it life. But it’s loss. It’s grief in slow motion. It’s a voice that used to laugh in the kitchen and now doesn’t echo anywhere. We grow used to absence like it's polite. Like it’s part of the plan. But there’s nothing kind about forgetting the ones who left without a sound. Some chairs are empty. And no one notices.