The Few Spare Seats Kept in Waiting The sweet smell, the crust of the bread toast smothered in sweet spread, and I converse with the vacant chair on the other side of the table, the gorgeously empty space, like a throne, made for nobody. I sit and I eat more sugar. I am at peace, or I imagine to be and I try to figure out why you are empty, or why is it that I cannot see you. Gone, isn't it? Ann Mary B (The New Place)🖋️🖋️