150 Words: Mercy
The ancient wall clock ticks annoyingly. 'It's too loud; it needs repair,' I think to myself.
I sit down in the worn-out armchair, then stand up from it as if I am dancing to the rhythm of the clock. I want to exhaust myself so that by the time the doctor returns from that dark room, I won't feel anything anymore. The door slowly opens. I peek into the dimly lit room.
‘It's over,’ says the doctor to my questioning look.
‘Thank God,’ I sigh. He faintly smiles, briefly places his hand on my shoulder, then leaves.
I hesitantly step into the room where a frail woman lies on a simple wooden bed. Her face and hands are skeletal. I don't feel pain, not yet. All I think of is that her suffering finally ceased. After caressing her cooling hand one last time, I turn off her bedside lamp.
– Eszter
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