The Curved Basin

The varnished seat curved inward like a shallow basin. I shuffled two steps toward the center, my feet sliding smoothly across the polished oak until I reached the deepest point. Sitting down in the dip, my back rested squarely against the slope. I tapped the base of the nearest backrest spindle with one fingertip, listening to the dry, hollow click it sent through the wood. Nothing answered. I settled deeper into the scooped timber, resting both hands over the chick at my chest, and watched the afternoon light stretch across the empty floorboards below.