One Seat Left

Bright daylight cuts through dusty windows. A ceiling fan wobbles overhead. Plastic chairs line the wall. A ROUTE BOARD hangs crookedly.

Only ONE EMPTY CHAIR remains.

M MANISH (44), formal shirt, tired eyes, newspaper in hand, approaches the chair like it’s a holy relic.

TUSHAR (26), loud confidence, backpack, earphones, coffee cup, enters from the other side at the exact same time.

RITU (38), efficient attendant, whistle and ticket pouch, stands near the counter with zero patience.

Excuse me... yeh seat maine reserve ki thi.

No chance, uncle. Yeh meri seat hai.

Uncle mat bolo. Aur seat meri hai.

Proof?

Manish instantly pulls out his phone.

Screenshot hai. App pe booking hai.

Tushar laughs, already unlocking his phone.

Same. QR code, receipt, transaction ID.

Full startup-grade proof.

Ritu steps in, whistle dangling.

Wah. Dono ke paas proof hai.

Seat ke paas koi seat nahi hai.

Madam, main subah se line mein hoon.

Main bhi. Actually, main toh app open karke

live tracking kar raha tha.

Aur main live dekh rahi hoon do aadmi

ek chair ke liye ro rahe hain.

Manish folds his newspaper sharply and places it on the chair arm like a claim marker.

Main yahin baith raha hoon.

Tushar moves in, coffee cup in hand.

Sorry, but system says seat occupied by me.

System ko jaake bolo, zindagi mein

thoda discipline laa.

Discipline? Uncle, aapko app update karna chahiye.

Beta, tumhe manners update karne chahiye.

Ritu blows her whistle—SHORT, SHARP.

Bas. Dono chup.

They freeze.

Ticket dikhao.

Both show tickets at once.

Ritu snatches both, checks them, then swaps them in her hands for no reason.

Hmm.

Kya hmm?

Tum dono ka reservation same platform pe

nahi, same ego pe hai.

Madam, please. Meeting hai.

He flashes his office ID card.

Main investor call pe hoon.

He lifts his coffee cup like it’s a badge of honor.

Great. Ek meeting aur ek call.

Dono ka result? Standing.

Manish fans himself with the newspaper.

Main itna thak chuka hoon ki khade khade

so jaunga.

Main itna busy hoon ki khade khade

sleep mode mein chala jaunga.

Tum dono itne busy ho ki seat ko notice

hi nahi kiya.

Matlab?

Ritu slowly points to the empty chair.

Woh seat.

A beat.

Woh... khali thi?

Haan. Aur tum dono ne isko World Cup bana diya.

Manish and Tushar stare at the chair, then at each other.

Par aapne bola last available seat...

Ritu pulls a tiffin bag from behind the counter.

Kyunki yeh seat meri lunch break ke liye thi.

Main dekh rahi thi ki kaun pehle tameez

dikhata hai.

She places the tiffin on the chair.

Toh seat ka issue tha hi nahi?

Nahi. Issue tum dono ka attitude tha.

Manish lowers the newspaper.

Madam... main bas thoda tired tha.

Main bas thoda overconfident tha.

Haan. Aur main bas bhookhi thi.

She opens the tiffin.

Ab agar aur drama hua na, toh yeh chair

permanently occupied ho jayegi.

Manish and Tushar exchange an embarrassed look.

So... hum dono khade hi rahenge?

Jab tak next bus/train nahi aati.

Aur haan—line mein.

Ritu sits down on the chair and takes a bite.

Manish and Tushar stand there, defeated.

The ceiling fan keeps turning. Dust floats in sunlight.

Manners ke saath.

Manish folds his newspaper. Tushar sips his coffee in silence.

They both look at each other, ashamed.

One seat left... aur woh bhi inke lunch ka tha.

Bro... hum dono ka ego full booked tha.

Ritu smirks without looking up.

Sahi bola.

THE END.