a broken heart and the archangel
the leather seat felt fake and cold to her. it was one of those store-bought furniture items that was completely impersonal and indifferent to the individual. of all her surroundings - the cell bars, the prison guards, the barbed wire - the seat insulted her the most. it just didn't feel right to her at all. then the criminal walked into the room.
he sat down across from her in the same kind of chair she was sitting in. she didn't find it fitting at all. she thought it was too good for him. no words were said before he sat down - no introduction, nothing. he didn't even make eye contact with her. he just sat there, looking down at the oak table, eyes lost in some fathomless void, completely hollow.
she asked him a question: "Did you hear them screaming?"
"Yes," he replied.
"While the vehicle was burning?"
"Yes, mam."
she swore she wouldn't cry.
"Do you still think about it?"
he finally made eye contact with her. his expression didn't change at all; it was still so empty and lost, like a deer staring into headlights, about to be struck. as soon as he opened his mouth, his eyes fell back to the table.
"No," he answered. tears fell from his eyes down his cheeks. now she was glad that she wasn't crying.
"I have something for you," she said. "Something for you to think about." she passed a picture across the table to him. it was of her husband and teenage son.
"They're dead now because of you. Because you decided to drink one night and start up a vehicle. I'm never going to get them back, and it's because of you. Now...now maybe you'll think about it more while you're in here."
he covered his face with his hands.
"Look at me," she demanded. "Look at me."
he managed to make eye contact once more.
she stared at him with a hatred as pure as gold.
"I forgive you," she said.
she left the room with the criminal in tears.
he sat down across from her in the same kind of chair she was sitting in. she didn't find it fitting at all. she thought it was too good for him. no words were said before he sat down - no introduction, nothing. he didn't even make eye contact with her. he just sat there, looking down at the oak table, eyes lost in some fathomless void, completely hollow.
she asked him a question: "Did you hear them screaming?"
"Yes," he replied.
"While the vehicle was burning?"
"Yes, mam."
she swore she wouldn't cry.
"Do you still think about it?"
he finally made eye contact with her. his expression didn't change at all; it was still so empty and lost, like a deer staring into headlights, about to be struck. as soon as he opened his mouth, his eyes fell back to the table.
"No," he answered. tears fell from his eyes down his cheeks. now she was glad that she wasn't crying.
"I have something for you," she said. "Something for you to think about." she passed a picture across the table to him. it was of her husband and teenage son.
"They're dead now because of you. Because you decided to drink one night and start up a vehicle. I'm never going to get them back, and it's because of you. Now...now maybe you'll think about it more while you're in here."
he covered his face with his hands.
"Look at me," she demanded. "Look at me."
he managed to make eye contact once more.
she stared at him with a hatred as pure as gold.
"I forgive you," she said.
she left the room with the criminal in tears.