The Execution

He was waiting for the end, but the end overtook him, W. says. That was the surprise: the end overtook him, when he thought he was perfectly prepared for it. It's a lesson, he says: the end will always come too soon. The end will be there, tapping on the window …

They'll put a sack on your head. They'll lead you through the forest. They'll make you kneel … Will you cry out for mercy? Will you accept your fate solemnly, with dignity? Will you piss and shit yourself in fear? Will you make a run for it before braining yourself on a tree?

For what cause are you dying? You don't know. You'll never understand. It's beyond you, your role in all this. What is certain is you must die. Your time has come. The time's overtaken you. You thought you had years – decades – but your time is now, you've outlived your time, this is it …

They'll put a bullet in your temple. You'll jerk backwards, fall …

W. is already falling, he says. He's already in some strange limbo. Nothing seems real. He's been numbed. Am I still alive?, he wants to ask people. Do I still exist? He stood up, sack on head, and has made a run for it, W. says.

Any moment now, he'll brain himself on a tree. Any moment, and the bullet will hit him in the back of the neck. And in the meantime? He runs with no idea where he's going. He runs, sack on head, hands tied behind his back, like an idiot …