Reservation for Four
Mar 27, 2026 · 4 min read
A glance bounces off the window
As my reflection keeps my company
A muted blue swallows the sky outside
I have my choice of seats
There is no comfortable spot left
The waiter stopped asking for refills hours ago
The ice in their waters has melted
Their cups overflow without thirst
The sutro expanded like steam
Once there were breaths
Now it’s just the fog left behind
My coffee has grown cold
It’s time to pay the bill
Reservation for four, dinner for one
sutro (n, coined): the hollowness of a space still shaped by whoever last left it. Derived from utsuro (虚ろ: hollow, empty) and Sutro Baths.
Photo by Luk Sauvage via Pexels
Comments (2)
Feedback is welcome! This is the first piece in a collection I’m working on - neologisms for feelings that don’t have words yet
This is strong. It feels lonely, observant and emotionally controlled in a way that makes the last line land harder.