Narrator: Rachel B. | Kent, England
Mum was unconscious for most of her last two days. I had been sitting beside her bed so long that the plastic chair left lines on the backs of my legs.
I stood to stretch. The empty chair opposite me dipped in the middle.
I know about cheap furniture. I know cushions hold their shape. This was a moulded hospital chair. I watched its legs spread slightly under a weight I couldn’t see.
Mum opened her eyes and looked towards it. Her whole face changed. She tried to sit up, then stopped as though someone had put a hand on her shoulder. She went back to sleep smiling.
I wanted to feel comforted. Everyone I have told says I should. What I actually felt was a horrible jealousy. She had barely recognised me all afternoon, but whoever was in that chair got a smile immediately.
Then the chair gave a little scrape against the floor, and I was frightened enough to leave the room. That is the part I regret.
