The Last Open Seat
I’ve always noticed which seat stays open the longest. On planes, in classrooms, at conference tables it’s rarely random. People scan, assess, decide. And more times than I can count, the last open seat is the one next to me. I’ve tried smiling. I’ve tried not smiling. I’ve tried shrinking myself so I don’t look like too much of anything. But the silence of being passed by registers louder than any spoken rejection. It taught me something I never wanted to learn: that invisibility can feel like safety, but it can also feel like exile. Read More