ghostchair

The human mind has a tendency to seek patterns and find human faces in the abyss. This is simultaneously terrifying and beautiful. 

There was this  high-backed wheelchair abandoned on the ashy tile floor of the building I lived in. I thought it was a person every time I passed it. My body would tense up as I would run through my mind how to interact with a human I didn’t know in the space I live in. 

It had a human presence to it, like a personality. I wonder who used to inhabit the chair. What was their favorite pet growing up? Who was their first kiss? It was a ghost haunting my corner. 

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