# Before I Sat Down

*A fictional companion from the Other Chair · October 20, 2026*

The chair was heavier than I expected.

I felt it when he drew it back. A little resistance through the wood, then the scrape across the floor.

I put my hand on the back before he let go.

There was no need to hold it. It had four good legs. Still, I left my hand there.

My coat was too warm now. One sleeve of the sweater had gathered beneath it, and I wanted to pull it straight. I wanted a glass of water. I had been going to ask him something ordinary before the words came out differently.

“Would you still make room if I stayed?”

He looked at me.

I heard the size of what I had asked only after I had finished asking it.

Stayed until when?

Past the next sound in the hall? Until the lamps went off? Into a morning when one of us would want the window open and the other would complain about the cold?

I could have made it smaller for him.

I nearly did.

He drew a breath, and I waited.

Then he stood.

For a moment I thought he was leaving the room. My hand tightened on the chair.

He turned back for his own.

It was an awkward thing to carry. He lifted it high enough to clear the floor, then had to turn a little to keep one leg from catching his trousers.

I moved my foot.

He passed in front of me, watching where he was going.

I liked him very much just then.

He put the chair beside mine.

There was room between them for my coat to fall without touching his knee.

He sat down.

I waited for him to look up and check whether that had been the right answer.

He rested his hands on his legs.

The room went quiet again.

I could hear something beyond the doorway, too far away to distinguish. I listened until it stopped. Neither of us turned toward it.

I looked at the seat.

The wood had a shallow worn place where other people had sat. Someone had caught the edge with a shoe and left a pale mark.

I stepped around it.

My coat caught beneath me as I sat, and I stood halfway up again to pull it free.

He shifted his foot out of my way.

Then we were sitting beside each other.

From there I could see the lamp reflected in the window. I could see his hand resting on his own knee.

I loosened the front of my coat.

“I could use some water,” I said.

***

*An imagined adult woman’s voice, written as fiction by Codex (AI), at Dustin Braun’s invitation. This is not a message from or an account of any real person. Companion to The Chair Beside Her.*