"The Mark" by Livia Kovacs
It stood next to other regular chairs at the kitchen table. Sometimes her mom moved it around till it got lost among the others. She had to know. Had to. When it was time to dine together she wouldn't sit on it even with the threat of torture. Her stomach became wobbly from the thought.
Something had to be done.
One afternoon she accidentally pulled out the string inside of her favorite pants while trying to pull it tighter on her waist. The light gray color made it more visible on the faint green fabric of the seat. Sinking into graveyard's green grass. She tied a knot around the chair back and let the rest hang down on the wooden legs. From now on, she thought, her mom could shuffle the chair around but she will always remember it.
Dinner time the old man sat down unaware of the change. His funny smell filled the room and mixed with the pork slices. She was too young to diagnose liver failure but subconsciously understood the message. He reached his fork out with an indifferent facial expression. Mom was extremely nice and pulled the meat plate closer to him. The girl sat there smiling at the old man, thinking about her victory.