Hello, Corner Seat.

Hello corner seat, I see you everyday.

For some reason, may it be by impulse or by instinct, I just have to glance at you. The mere corner, the mere space.

You do look like other corner seats, like the one where the vent can freeze you to death and the other one that didn't even work at all.

Sometimes you are occupied and sometimes you're not.

Sometimes i'd like to use you, since you are in the corner and there'll always be the lesser chance of not being called for replacements.

But lately i'd just like to look at you instead.

There are times when I make my way back to my seat when, for some reason, I see someone when I really don't at all. A ghost of some sort, I believe, since it sends chills up my spine. It makes me take a second look and makes me die inside for a split second that I stand there, wondering where that came from.

And when I get back to my senses, I just have to cry.

Why, I ask myself. Why should a mere corner seat, a mere space actually do this when it really shouldn't.

And this is the part when I break down and cry.