The One in the Chair

I awoke to the sound of my alarm, and instinctually flicked it off. My soft brown hair fell in my eyes, and I pushed it out of the way. Pink sunlight was streaming in through the blinds, illuminating the wall and armchair on the other side of my room. It also painted a faint outline of the figure sitting in that same chair.

I knew that I should be scared — I started living alone a year ago — but this creature somehow felt perfectly normal in my typically empty room. Like it belonged there. Whether or not it was a human was beyond me. Calling it one felt wrong — hell, calling it anything felt wrong — but whatever it was, it was in the shape of a human, and it was definitely alive.

I slowly sat up while covering my chest, which was bare, save for my black bra, with my blanket. I kept my eyes fixed on the figure with a strange lack of suspicion as I reached for my shirt. The figure didn’t move. I pulled my shirt on as fast as I could, trying to limit the time it was out of my sight.

By now, the sunlight had turned orange and yellow. Still sitting up in bed, I opened the window blinds behind my bed fully, painting the figure in warm, dreamlike colors. On the wall and chair, the colors looked normal, bordering on bland compared to the effect they had on the figure.

As I stared at it, the thing stared back. I was unnerved; not by the figure in my home, but by the fact that it felt so natural. I didn’t even wonder how it got there, let alone why it was there. I only knew that it was.

As the light in my room grew, I got a better and better image of the figure. It looked like any real person. Whether it had the shape of a man or woman, I couldn’t tell. It seemed to be both and neither at the same time, but I didn’t think that the form it took mattered. No matter what kind of person it was, it still wasn’t one.

Hair whiter than snow fell onto its pale, slender shoulders, going halfway down its torso. An air of elegance surrounded it, as though it was better than me and it knew it. Its strong yet thin legs were crossed, and it was resting its hands on its knees.

Eyes that seemed to lack color pierced me. Not that they were white or black, but that they didn’t have any color at all. I couldn’t tell if it had clothes or not; if I tried to focus on it, it became harder to see. It was like I was imagining its very existence.

It didn’t move an inch as I stared; it only returned my gaze sharply. It didn’t even look as though it were breathing. I could tell it was alive though — if a life even properly described what this thing experienced.

I cleared my throat, breaking the silence between us. “So,” I started, my voice startlingly calm, “Hi.” I raised my hand and slightly waved. It mirrored my movement, and its gaze ever so slightly softened, but still remained tightly on my eyes.

There was only one question I wanted answered. Not how or why this thing was here, but instead, “Are you real?” It cocked its head, silky hair slipping off of its shoulder. When it spoke, no sound came out. I wasn’t even sure if its mouth was moving; I couldn’t tell.

“Am I?” it asked. I could tell that it wasn’t mocking me; it was genuinely curious, as though it had no idea itself.

“How am I supposed to know?” I asked, pointing at my chest. “It’s not like I made you.”

It pointed at me, its hand wavering in and out of focus. I could barely make out each individual finger. “How do you know that you didn’t?”

Several seconds of silence followed as it lowered its hand. “...How do I know?” It responded with a near unblinking stare. “I’d probably remember if I… made you.” The idea that I made it didn’t feel wrong, though. Somehow, me having created this thing felt perfect. It felt right. I chalked that up to just a passing feeling.

Still, I was calm. It felt perfectly natural to be around it. “I know as much as you do,” it said, still unmoving.

As I thought of how to respond to that, my phone rang on my bedside table. I turned my head and attention to it as panic flooded my entire being. There was someone in my house. Whether or not it's a person doesn’t matter; it shouldn’t be here. I started hyperventilating, ignoring my phone. I clutched the blanket tighter to my chest.

My head turned slowly to the figure that was still in the chair. It hadn’t budged, save for its eyes. Its gaze had moved from me to the phone. I felt my breathing slow down and become calmer. I don’t see any reason for it to leave, I reasoned. It’s not like it’s been a threat.

The phone continued to ring to an audience of no one as I ignored it, my gaze not moving from the figure, whose eyes had moved to meet mine. Eventually, the phone became quiet. The thought of leaving never came.

Silence fell over the room as I stared into its eyes, and it stared right back. Several still minutes passed, until a lone bird started its song outside my window. The sunlight had long since turned white and yellow, but I never noticed until now. I slowly ripped my gaze from the figure to look at the window, where the figure met my eyes.

It stood at my bedside table. The armchair was empty. I had never seen it move from the chair, yet there wasn’t a moment it was out of my gaze. I felt no surprise seeing it there. It was only natural, it being here by my side. Whether I saw it move or not didn’t matter.

It stood facing me, looking down at me with a soft gaze. Its hands were clasped behind its back — I couldn’t see them, but I knew that’s what they were doing.

Its closeness was welcome. Why wouldn’t it be? It made me feel calm; as though nothing would go wrong again. What’s wrong with that? I edged closer to it and felt even calmer. I had no idea this feeling was possible. If I could feel this forever, I would never worry again. Family and friends melted away as I slowly moved closer and closer to the figure.

It took a step towards my bed, and its thighs softly pressed into my mattress. The sheets and mattress remained undisturbed, like nothing had touched them. I sat up and faced my body to the figure, pushing myself towards it. My legs fell off the end of the bed, spread apart. The figure stood between them. My feet swayed back and forth, passing through the figure’s calves and shins as they did.

I slowly stretched my arms to either side of the figure. It leaned in towards me, and embraced me. All thoughts and memories faded, and all that remained was… nothing. I could feel and remember nothing. And yet it felt perfect. This was perfect.

I felt myself fall into the figure, and I landed softly in a cushioned chair. I sat in a comfortable position, with my legs crossed and my hands on my knees. I didn’t know how I got here, or where here was. I didn’t remember anything. That wasn’t a problem. I didn’t need to remember.

Pink sunlight cast rays onto my face and the area around me through window blinds. An alarm rang, and a familiar looking woman in a black bra and brown hair reached over and turned it off. She wiped the hair from her eyes, and met my gaze.