The Empty Bench.

In a park there always stood a bench that no one ever sat on. People walked past it in hurried gray routines, as if the bench did not exist. One day an old man, known to everyone sat down, breaking the silence. 

He simply sat and waited. At first passersby looked puzzled: why would someone sit on something everyone avoided? The man rose and with a soft, warm voice spoke:

— Sit down, whoever was alone yesterday. Sit down, whoever needs a moment to stop. Sit down, whoever wants to talk, or to listen. Sit down, whoever is tired, or who wants to share a joy.

A young woman was the first to sit. Then a father with his child. A cyclist stopped and removed his helmet. A mother, holding her head, sat and, tearfully, began to tell of a small failure that had troubled her all day. Gradually, the bench filled with those who wanted to listen and those who wanted to speak.

As they sat, the bench changed: it was no longer empty. In the city's noise this little community quietly began to calm. People's words became light ropes that tied them together; they shared their burdens and small joys.

The bench did not suddenly solve the world's problems. It did not turn into a magic remedy. But it became a place to rest, where one did not feel completely alone. And sometimes, that is enough.
The bench's simple message was this: when someone sits first, the bench is no longer empty — and the world becomes a little kinder.