The Empty Chair
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Every morning at exactly 7:00 a.m., Mr. Kareem sat at the corner table of the little café near the park. He always ordered the same thing: black coffee, one sugar, no milk.
Across from him was an empty chair.
He never used his phone, never brought a book. He just sat... and sometimes smiled at the space across from him.
The waitress, Salma, once asked kindly, “Are you waiting for someone?”
He paused, looked at the chair, and replied,
“I used to.”
For 42 years, he and his wife met at that café. Even after they got married, had kids, and grew old, it remained *their place*.
A year ago, she passed away.
But Kareem still came. Every morning. Same time. Same chair. Same quiet love.
One rainy day, Salma brought him a coffee... and placed a second cup across from him.
He looked at her, surprised.
“It’s on the house,” she said. “She’s probably still listening.”
He smiled... and for the first time in months, whispered a soft “Thank you” to the chair.