I always notice where people choose to sit.
This is not a particularly useful habit.
It has never helped me find a better table, receive faster service, or understand why the person beside me ordered something that appears to require structural engineering to eat.
Still, I notice.
Some people sit facing the window.
They want the street.
Movement.
People passing.
A city performing without knowing it has an audience.
Others choose the wall.
Perhaps they prefer fewer distractions.
Perhaps they have spent enough time looking at strangers.
Then there are the people who sit facing the door.
I find them interesting.
A door is not usually the most beautiful part of a room.
Nobody designs a café around the magnificent view of people arriving slightly late.
Yet some people choose it immediately.
They enter.
Look around.
And without appearing to think about it, take the seat that allows them to see everyone who comes in.
I do not believe they are all spies.
This is disappointing, but statistically sensible.
Most are probably waiting for someone.
Some may simply dislike having movement behind them.
Others have no idea why they chose the chair.
Habit often makes decisions before we arrive.
That interests me.
Characters are frequently introduced through large things.
Their profession.
Their history.
The event that changed them.
These things matter.
But I often learn more when I ask smaller questions.
Where do they sit?
Do they remove their coat?
Do they place their phone on the table or leave it in a pocket?
When someone enters the room, do they look?
The answers rarely belong in the story.
That is not the point.
A writer should know things the reader never needs to be told.
Perhaps especially those things.
If I know why someone always sits facing the door, I may never write the explanation.
But I will know where to place the chair.
And sometimes that is enough.
The smallest habits are often the ones we defend least carefully.
Ask someone about their beliefs and they will consider the answer.
Watch them enter an unfamiliar room and they have already told you something.
So yes.
I notice where people sit.
Not because I expect trouble.
Not because I am waiting for anyone.
I simply find it difficult to ignore the quiet decisions people make when they believe nothing important is happening.
Those are usually the decisions I write down.
— D. Vaen