You walk into the cafe and find everyone staring at one of the patrons, who is sitting in the middle of the cafe crying. He's saying something, but it's the language of some far away world. You're surprised to see The Manager looking too.
As you eye the patron, who looks like a man but is six feet tall sitting down and covered in green hair, you begin to really listen and empathize with what he's saying. Moments pass and it turns out that you can, in fact, understand the language being spoken.
The being, which you are not at all sure is actually a man despite the hair, is speaking of its love that was lost in some sort of rite of passage ritual. When it's tale is done and it stands, you are suddenly unable to understand it and are found wondering what happened.
"It's the Listening Chair," The Manager says helpfully. "You sit, and you're are compelled to be honest about your feelings, and others are compelled to listen."
Well, it makes sense. As much as anything does, here. You find yourself thinking what it would be that you shared if you sat.
"If you want to find out," The Manager says with a smile, "why don't you have a seat? "
He looks around the cafe at all the patrons that have gone back to their conversations, thoughts, and drinks.
"Everybody is so self-absorbed and secretive. Now and again it's nice to take a break from that atmosphere. If you sit down, never fear. They won't remember exactly what you shared. Only the feeling of it. No one is listening now, but they will be."
He gestures toward the chair once more, and you move to sit down...
