Content: Arthur

It's Wednesday and it's 4pm and Arthur is opening the door to Dr. Kane's office like he does every other Wednesday at 4. He greets her and she nods in acknowledgement as he crosses the room, toward the single chair across from her desk. It's empty and stifling and brutally hard; the same way it's been every other Wednesday at 4.

"Arthur, please sit down," Dr. Kane says, looking up at him with poorly concealed frustration. But he continues to stand, staring at all of the chairs dull wooden edges, and at the shallow dip in its seat, like he's felt it over and over but never seen it before.

"When there's a room with only one chair," he says, "that's a dangerous place, right? Because you know you'll be the only one sitting."

She doesn't respond, so Arthur keeps going.

"For a while, before things got bad, I knew something was wrong. I felt like something was wrong. And I tried to explain it to people, the ways I was feeling, and the things that were happening. And no one would take me seriously. So it got worse and worse until no one could ignore it because what I was doing was affecting them."

"That's unfortunate." She seems unsurprised, and that feels more comforting than her concern could ever be.

"No one will ever believe you if it's just you," Arthur explains, "If you're the only one sitting in a chair. Because they can't sit in the chair with you and understand how it feels. And even if you got out of the chair and let them sit in it, they'd sit a whole different way, or they'd be a different size or shape, and it wouldn't be the same at all. Why should anyone believe what you say if they can't feel the same thing you do?" Arthur runs his fingers along a narrow bridge of wood and his skin snags on the places where it has splintered with age. "Now I'm still in a chair and I'm still trying to explain to people how it feels, and it's like they believe me even less. Because they think I've only ever been in a room with one chair, and a room with one chair is a dangerous place."

When he finally sits, there's the familiar sound of wood and nails creaking nervously under the weight of his body. Dr. Kane waits in silence as he lights a cigarette; the same way she's done every other Wednesday at 4.