Extra Chair
They say there is a single chair in the dining hall on Community Avenue that is never occupied for long. Even when the lunch line snakes out the doors and an open table becomes as rare as a free minute in the forum schedule, a spot is somehow reserved for one person—and it is precisely when they need to talk to someone the most.
No one clearly remembers where this story originated. Some claim it began with an ordinary breakfast, while others recall a noisy lunch that led several strangers to organize their own project. But the most common tale involves a girl named Varya, who once came to the dining hall to eat, nearly missing her final chance to speak.
That year, Community Avenue buzzed from the early morning. Participants gathered at the «Inspiration» space with coffee in paper cups—some were rehearsing speeches on the go, others were searching for the right studio, and some had already promised acquaintances they would meet after lectures for the third day in a row. Not far away, coming from the Good Deeds Street side, drifted the scent of fresh baking. It pointed unmistakably toward the cafeteria, even to those visiting the forum grounds for the first time.Varya had come here with a project for a new public space. For half a year, she had drawn schematics, mapped out pathways, selected materials, and argued with her team over every single bench.Especially over the benches. Matvey, her lead assistant, suggested arranging them in a semicircle so people could converse, but Varya insisted on strict, parallel rows.«People in the park will sit like they are taking an exam, ” Matvey argued.„But the composition won’t fall apart.“„What if they want to face each other?“„Then they will turn.“„With the benches?“The conversation usually ended there. Varya believed that a good project needed one strong idea, and endless discussions only hindered the work.
The day before the final presentation, Matvey and another team member backed out of presenting the project. The final straw was when Varya removed all their suggestions from the presentation without warning.
That morning, she discovered a short message in the group chat: «We are not ready to defend a work where we are no longer involved.» There were five hours left until the presentation.
At first, Varya decided nothing serious had happened. She opened her laptop, checked the slides, and even managed to adjust the shadow beneath one of the trees in the visualization. Then she reread the contest rules, which stated that the project had to be presented by a team.
Varya called Matvey. He didn’t answer. She texted the other team member—who suggested discussing the changes. Varya closed the chat, convinced that conceding at this point would be almost as bad as losing.
For the next two hours, she tried to find a new team. One acquaintance agreed to help, but it turned out he was performing at another venue at the same time. Another suggested simply putting his name on the presentation, which was even worse. A third listened carefully to Varya and advised her to reconcile with Matvey.
By one o’clock, her perfect project was left without a team, without a defense, and almost without hope.
Varya snapped her laptop shut and went to eat. The dining hall was in that unique chaos only found where several hundred hungry people gather simultaneously. Spoons clinked, refrigerator doors slammed, trays slid along metal tracks, and the girl at the register calmly repeated the price of the set lunch for the twentieth time. Steam rose from the serving line. By the window, someone waved a fork, arguing their point with neighbors, while deeper in the hall, people laughed so loudly it sounded like a separate comedy show was taking place. Varya got soup, buckwheat with a cutlet, and kompot. She chose the drink particularly slowly, as if the day’s entire mood hinged on it. But as soon as she moved away from the register, she encountered a new problem: all the tables were taken. «Excuse me, do you have a free table?» she asked the group near the window. «A friend will be right along.» «How about here?» «Taken, sorry.»
Varya walked around the room a second time. The soup was cooling, the compote was swaying precariously, and the heavy tray was gradually turning into an endurance test.«Excuse me, young woman, ” someone called out from behind her.Varya tried to turn around and bumped into the man carrying the tray with her elbow. He skillfully caught the glass, but the spoon still fell to the floor.„Well, that’s it, ” he sighed, „now at least there’s a reason to go back for dessert.“Someone laughed. Varya felt heat rush to her cheeks. She wanted to put the tray on the nearest table and leave, even without lunch.„It’s truly astonishing, ” a voice came from the line. „We’ve gathered to discuss the future of communities, and there’s not even a seat for a person to sit in!“„There are never free seats, ” an elderly woman by the window replied. „There are just people who haven’t moved yet.“She took her bag off the chair and invited Varya to sit down.
Three people were seated at the table: a woman who introduced herself as Nina Pavlovna, a young engineer named Ilya, and a young woman named Sonya who worked in urban events. They had only met a few minutes earlier, yet they spoke as if they had been friends since childhood.«Are you entering an architecture competition?» Sonya asked, noticing the blueprints sticking out of the folder.Varya nodded.«And what are you designing?»«A public space.»«For people?»«No, for squirrels, ” Varya snapped, unable to contain her mounting anger.Ilya choked on his compote.„Well, who knows, ” Sonya replied. „We had a whole lecture yesterday about the urban environment for animals.“Against her better judgment, Varya even smiled—she hadn’t expected such a normal response to her rudeness.
A moment of awkward silence settled over the table for a few minutes. Then Sonia began to talk about an event she once hosted in a small city park. Participants were supposed to discuss ideas at separate tables, but by the end of the evening, they had moved all the furniture to the center of the space and set up one large circle.
«The organizers almost went crazy back then, ” she laughed. „But people actually started talking for the first time.“
Ilya took a paper napkin and sketched several intersecting lines.
„Listen, what if we create a space that can change? Today it’s a quiet zone; tomorrow it’s a meeting spot; the day after, a small concert venue.“
„And make the benches movable!“ Sonia chimed in.
„Just not too heavy, ” Nina Pavlovna added. „Am I supposed to haul them later?“
Everyone laughed. Varya was about to explain why it was impossible when she noticed that Ilya was drawing almost the same diagram that Matvey had suggested to her the day before.
She fell silent. Normal life continued around them in the cafeteria. People sat down with strangers, passed salt to each other, exchanged phone numbers, and argued about lectures. Someone nudged two tables together to accommodate a large group. At the next table, a girl helped a guy put together a presentation, even though they hadn’t seemed to know each other ten minutes earlier.
Varya watched them and suddenly realized that all this time, she had been trying to invent a place where people would want to socialize by sitting in the middle of an already existing one.
She felt a mixture of amusement and embarrassment.
«Could I have one more napkin?» she asked.Ten minutes later, six napkins lay on the table, along with the forum program and several annotated sketches. Ilya was suggesting route changes, Sonya was developing use cases, and Nina Pavlovna was vetting every idea with a simple question: would this be convenient for the average person?For the first time, Varya wasn’t trying to steer the conversation. She was taking notes, occasionally debating, occasionally agreeing, and she was surprised to find that her project wasn’t getting worse as a result.Then she looked at the clock.There were twenty-eight minutes left before the defense.«We won’t get anything done, ” she sighed.„What do we need to do?“ Ilya asked.„Rework half of the presentation. Assemble the team. Prepare the pitch. And ideally, get some sleep.“„We definitely won’t get the last thing done, ” Sonya noted seriously. „Let’s start with the presentation.“But at that moment, Matvey stopped near the table.
He held a tray with a salad and looked like he was just going to grab lunch, but he had accidentally ended up at the crime scene.
«Interesting, ” he said, examining the napkins. „We argued about this yesterday.“
Varya raised her head.
„Matvey…“
„No, seriously. Even the benches are arranged in a semicircle.“
His voice sounded calm, which made Varya feel particularly uneasy. She could argue that this was a completely different concept. That random people had come up with everything independently of him. That she hadn’t had time to explain her decisions.
Instead, she slowly closed her laptop.
„You were right, ” Varya said.
Matvey smirked.
„I’ll write that down. That happens rarely.“
„I’m serious.“
Suddenly, he stopped smiling.
„I was afraid that if I agreed with you, the project wouldn’t be mine anymore.“
„And it shouldn’t have been only yours.“
Varya lowered her eyes.
„I know.“
Matvey looked at his watch. Then at the napkins. Then at the untouched salad.
„How much time is left?“
„Twenty minutes.“
„Well, wonderful. I’ve always dreamed of redesigning six months of work in the time of one lunch.“
He placed the tray on the table and sat down.
The next fifteen minutes resembled a poorly organized rescue mission. Sonya was dictating concise phrases, Ilya was photographing new diagrams, Varya was hurriedly changing slides, and Matvey was checking blueprints while occasionally trying to push the bowl of compote away from the laptop. Nina Pavlovna watched them, shaking her head.
«At least eat something first.»
«Later!» the four replied in unison.
«Well, well. Your great future will probably be built without a cutlet.»
With six minutes left before their presentation, they sprang up and rushed toward the exit. On the table remained empty plates, cooled tea, and a scribbled napkin with the final version of the plan. Nina Pavlovna noticed this as the group disappeared through the doors.
«Oh, the designers, ” she sighed, picked up the napkin, and hurried after them.
In the defense hall, Varya was greeted by dim lighting, a large screen, and several jury members who looked no more energetic at the end of the day than the participants had been. She plugged in her laptop, opened the presentation, and felt her fingers tremble.
The first few slides went well. Varya confidently presented the project’s objectives, research, and spatial solutions. But halfway through the presentation, the chair of the jury interrupted her.
„In your application, you presented one concept, and now you are showing another. Which one is the final one?“
Varya looked at Matvey. He nodded almost imperceptibly.
„The second one, ” she replied.
„And when did you develop it?“
There was an awkward silence, but Varya decided to tell the truth.
„Today. At lunch…“
Someone in the room chuckled softly. The chairman of the committee took off his glasses.
„Excuse me?“
„We met some people in the cafeteria and realized we missed something crucial.“
She tried to open a new blueprint, but the required image wasn’t there. In their haste, they had forgotten to add the last file to the presentation. Matvey frantically started searching for it on his laptop.
„One second, ” Varya requested.
„Your presentation time is ending, ” the chairman reminded her.
Someone coughed behind her. The screen glowed with an empty white rectangle. Varya stared at it, feeling everything she had worked for over six months slipping away.
And then the back door of the hall slowly opened.
Nina Pavlovna stood at the threshold. She clearly did not intend to draw attention, but her appearance holding a paper napkin was so unexpected that several people turned their heads.«Varya!» she called out in a loud whisper. «You forgot the drawing!»Laughter rippled through the hall. Varya looked at the napkin. On it, uneven lines depicted pathways, tables, benches, and a small square. In one corner, Ilya had drawn a person resembling an inverted «U, ” and Sonya had captioned it: „A place where one can meet.“ Varya took the napkin and, instead of searching for the required file, held it up before her.„This is our final concept.“The chairperson looked at her in surprise.„On a napkin?“„For now, yes.“She paused.„For six months, we tried to conceive of the perfect space for interaction. We arranged benches, calculated routes, and chose materials. But today, at one table, completely strangers offered more useful ideas in fifteen minutes than we did in the past few weeks. Varya looked out at the hall.„And I realized that a good public space shouldn’t force people to behave in a certain way. It should give them the opportunity to decide for themselves how to be together.“ She spoke about a cafeteria where the line became a place for meeting, breakfast turned into a discussion of lectures, and a chair accidentally pulled close helped spark a conversation.„We always felt like we needed to teach people how to connect. But perhaps first, we should observe how they already do it.“When Varya finished, a brief silence settled over the room. Then, someone applauded. Several others followed.The jury chairperson smiled, but the scores did not change. The project was not finished enough to receive the top award.
Varya didn’t win. She listened to the results announcement while staring at the floor. She was so upset she was on the verge of tears. Half a year of work, dozens of sleepless nights, endless revisions—and no first place. Matvey stood beside her, silent.
«Maybe we should have kept the old presentation, ” she finally said.
„Maybe, ” he agreed.
Varya looked up in surprise.
„Is that it?“
„What do you want to hear? We could have won. Or we could have permanently fallen out and never done anything together again.“
He handed her his phone. There were several new messages on the screen. Sonya had already suggested testing their idea at one of the upcoming events. Ilya had sent contacts of people willing to help with the constructions. Another participant from the defense had written that he would like to join the project.
„I think, ” Matvey said, „we have a bigger team than before.“
Varya reread the messages. Then again. And she laughed, even though her eyes were wet.
By evening, they returned to the dining hall. There were noticeably fewer people. Forgotten forum programs lay on the tables, dishes tinkled softly at the serving station, and a gentle evening light streamed through the large windows. Nina Pavlovna was sitting in her usual spot with a cup of tea.
„Well, did you win?“ she asked.
„No, ” Varya replied.
„What a shame.“
„But we met people.“
The woman nodded in satisfaction, as if that was the exact answer she had been waiting for. Varya placed the tray on the table and noticed another empty chair nearby.
„Who are we waiting for?“
„No one.“
„Then why is it there?“
Nina Pavlovna shrugged.
„Maybe someone will come.“
They stayed late, discussing new ideas, reminiscing about the failed defense, and laughing at how seriously the jury had examined a napkin. Matvey suggested keeping it as a souvenir, but it turned out the drawing was already stained with tea. Ilya took another picture of it, and Sonya wrote the name of the future project in the group chat: „There’s Room.“
It was only then that Nina Pavlovna remembered a phrase spoken earlier in line during the day.
„There is no such thing as an empty space. There are people who haven’t moved yet.“
Matvey wrote it on the back of the forum program and left it on the table.
They say that it was after that evening in the cafeteria that the tradition of not occupying the last chair with bags and coats began. During breakfast, people started sitting closer to one another; during lunch, they would discuss lectures with strangers and write down the most memorable phrases on napkins. Some of these phrases became team names, while others turned into inside jokes that the entire forum would later repeat.
Time has passed. The participants have scattered to different cities, the event programs have changed, and few can recall the names of those who first conceived the idea of leaving a space open. But the story remains.
Visitors have begun to say that even on the busiest day, there is always one empty chair in the cafeteria. Some have seen it by the window, some near the serving line, and some assert that it appeared precisely at the moment they desperately wished to talk to another person.
Of course, this phenomenon probably has a simple explanation. Perhaps visitors simply got used to moving a little whenever someone asked permission to sit down.
But the old-timers prefer a different version.
They say that since then, the cafeteria on Community Avenue has been saving one spot for the person they have yet to meet.
And if you ever enter there after a lecture, tired from endless discussions, or feeling lonely among hundreds of participants, don’t rush out with your tray in hand.
Look a little closer. Perhaps an empty chair is already waiting for you near the window.
And a story that begins with a simple question:
«Is this seat taken?»
