Designing the Execution Room

“I don’t like this wall color. It seems. . . depressing.”

“Dr. Sullivan, it is, well, an Execution Room,” said Mrs. Hipp.

“I know. But it doesn’t have to feel like one. The prisoners come in. Get strapped down. Die. Who’s left after? Me and the body,” said Dr. Sullivan.

Mrs. Hipp stood there filing her nails, half paying attention to the rambling doctor.

“I went to medical school for 8 years. I shouldn’t have to deal with this. If only . . .” Dr. Sullivan said to himself. Quite sure she wasn’t listening.

“You can’t really go wrong with egg-shell white,” says Mrs. Hipp. “It goes with just about everything. You only really have a few pieces of . . .” she cleared her throat, “furniture in here.”

“I know,” replied Dr. Sullivan. “That white doesn’t do much for me, though. What about-”

“So what kind of doctor are you?” interrupted Mrs. Hipp. “Like, outside of the prison. Aren’t doctors supposed to be saving people instead of, you know, this?”

Dr. Sullivan wrung his hangs. A nervous habit that developed a few years ago.

“This is my only job. Some doctors save lives. Some have to do this. It wasn’t what I had in mind when I applied to medical school but, it pays the bills.”

“But don’t you guys take an oath?” Mrs. Hipp stated as she crossed the room towards the doctor. “To save lives instead of taking them?”

“It’s a fine line we walk, Mrs. Hipp. Trust me,” replied the doctor.

“Oh, I understand. I’ve been in the interior design business for years. Practically seen it all. Until now that is,” Mrs. Hipp laughed.

“I’ll tell you what, though,” she continued. “This will be some of my best work yet,” she finished, while pointing her nail file towards the doctor.

“I like that color,” the doctor stated. “That gray. Think you can just paint the walls that color, throw in a few plants, and hang a picture or two?”

“Sure thing! I’ve actually got some gray color swatches here in my purse.” She rambles around her giant purse for a short time.

Dr. Sullivan has since stopped wringing his hands and started looking out the window. Almost as if he’s trying to occupy his eyes to forget what he’s thinking, or remembering.

“Here it is!” Mrs. Hipp says as she hands him the color swatch.

“I like it. It’s dark and smoky. Not too light, but not too depressing and dark. Put it on one wall. That one,” he says, as he points to the largest wall that acts as a backdrop to the execution when witnesses come to view the event.

“Perfect! We’re all done here,” she says as she grabs the color swatch back from the doctor. “I’ll have my painters come by first thing in the morning.”

Mrs. Hipp heads out the door.

“By the way. What was the name of that gray?” asks Dr. Sullivan.

Mrs. Hipp looks down at the paper, “It says M. Gray.”