A Chair

A lone bench sits atop a hill.

The air is still, the forest moves not an inch, and the sit is cold; it has been that way for a long time. You cannot remember the last time you were here, and try as you might, you fail to access any semblance of a memory related to it. Where even is this actually? You try to remember once again, but, comically, fail again. A blur, your mind is. An emotion filters throughout your body; frustration, sadness, anger? You cannot tell, and it completely subsides before you can even attempt to identify it.

Instead, you sit upon the bench, feeling beckoned by it's presence.

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