The chair can be many colors, made of many different things. But the results are always the same in the disaster that it brings. A man walked into the room and the lady sat him down. This was no circus, there were no clowns. The room was dull, kind of an off grey. Fitting the mood of the second man to enter the room with nothing but bad things to say. It was a somber building truly, everyone in there was falling down. Lots of crying going on but hope was all around.

Under the steeple people prayed with care for their loved ones in the chair. Not much can be done but to keep it on the run. A pardon from the governor would matter little in this place. For the man in the chair looked at death in the face. Regardless of his political position the man in the chair would face his inquisition.

The second man started talking and only a few sentences in, the ringing in the first mans ears laid his emotions thin.

As his hands gripped tighter and tighter on the chair he heard nothing on from there. He saw the second man talking but didn’t hear a sound. It is in moments like this where Christ is often found. It became hard to breath and his knees started to shake, but there was nothing he could do, the reality of his situation he must take. Statistically it’s low you will find yourself in there, alone talking to another man while you’re sitting in the chair.

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