It's not everyday you get to meet a Tuesday. You meet it once a week, every seven days. That's what makes it special. But this Tuesday was even more special.
You get up from your bed Tuesday morning. You stop the alarm at 7.30. Slipping into your room slippers, you shuffle groggily to the bathroom. To brush your teeth and wash up. The cold water hits your face and you feel more refreshed, awake. You walk back to your room in large strides befitting a person of your tall stature. Opening the wardrobe, you survey the monotonous colours of your uniform. Black, dark black, bold black, pitch black, just black. You take the first item off the racks and change into it. You look into the mirror, smoothing down the creases. You want to look good for your job today. After all, you only get jobs on Tuesdays.
I get up from my bed Tuesday morning. I wince at the loud alarm blaring at 7.30. I shuffle my bare feet groggily across the barren concrete floor to the sink to wash up. The cold water hits my face like the cold reality. It could be today. My heart sinks, depression and worry heavy on my mind. I shuffle back to my bed with my back hunched, unsurprising of someone with my status. I look down at my uniform. Black and white, black and white. Striped. The pattern seems to have a function to make the seer go crazy. I look at my feet. It is dirty with dirt and dust from the floor. I look towards the bars of the room, watching the people outside pass by without so much as a look at me.
You walk down the hallways. The only scenery that greets you is the rows and rows of bars. The people behind them slink into the shadows, only discernible by the faint white striping of their uniform. You look down at your list on your clipboard, your footsteps resounding in the large building. Room 1634. Male, no.1849024. Aged 26. Tuesday, 14 May. You look up. Room 1634, just ahead.
I pace about in my room. It is bare. A double decker bed (my roommate left), a sink, a toilet. Outside, a brightly lit hallway separates the two rows of bars. Too bright, I think, and step back into the embrace of the darkness. Click-clack, click-clack. I stiffen. I position my eyes toward the direction of the sound. I put my hands together. No. Not today. Please. Another week. Please. As the footsteps approach, my heartbeat quickens, and each footstep weighs heavier on my shoulders. A weight was in my stomach and only the passing of the footsteps could remove it. I eye the man in black uniform walking along the length of my cell. Move on, move on. Don't stop here. Please. No. The man stops.
"Number 1849024. Today." you say, your tone clipped and official, no hint of sympathy. But that is to be expected. You have been at this job for years after all.
I listen. With each word, my heart sinks. Today.
"Are you sure?" I ask, knowing it was useless.
You nod, opening the bars. I step into the brightness of the hallway, the light embraces me in a stronghold, slowly forcing the air out of my lungs, choking me. I follow you wordlessly, my feet dragging on the floor. The silence is heavy and thick, a gloomy atmosphere settles around us. The others in their cell watch us warily. When would it be their turn? They fret.
You lead me into an open area. How long has it been since I last saw sunlight? I close my eyes and tilt my head up. The warmth spreads across my face. The breeze blows along. It is such a perfect day. I open my eyes and look around. The machine stands in the middle of the field. Tall and dark. The sunlight glints off the polished edge. Sweat drips off my face. It looks...... menacing. I turn to look at you, your stoic face not betraying a single emotion. So this is how it will all end. No one around to watch me, no cheers, no tears. Just me and you.
"Here. Just kneel down in front of the wooden plank. Lean forward. A bit more. Rest your chin on the wood. Yes that's it. Any words? Don't worry too much, it will be over soon."
"My sister...... tell her I love her."
"Alright."
Empty promises. I know. You only say that to make me feel at ease. What for? I don't see a point.
You were almost cheerful. I was almost hopeful. But I resign to my fate. I close my eyes and wait. I count.
One. Two. Thre---
You drop the sharp edge of the guillotine. It slices through the air with a whoosh and lands with a thump. Using your sleeve, you wipe the sweat off your forehead. You pick up the limp body and shove it in a body bag. Casually picking up the head by its hair, you toss it into the bag and tie it up. A life for a life, you think. A small smile on your face, you drag the heavy black bag into the disposal area, grateful that he was not an obese man. You collect your money and leave on your merry way. After all, this was just another Tuesday.
