The Check-In

“I’m really a very social creature, you know. People– always been a fan.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Oh, I just think being with a person is lovely. What do the kids say? I stan society.”

“Mhm.”

“I really don’t belong in here, I mean, I’m a gentle soul at heart.”

“That’s not what the others have said.”

“Well, what do they know? Look, I made a mistake. I regret it, I’m sorry.”

“That sounds ingenuine.”

“Of course it is. Nobody knows how to tell the truth, not anymore. But listen, I’ve got to get out of here, it’s driving me crazy– the walls are so white.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Same thing with wearing white clothes on a white carpet. Too easy to stain, too hard to wash out. White’s such a virtuous color, isn’t it? It almost feels like a challege, you know, all these white walls. Tempting me, inviting me, daring me to paint them in red. Red’s a much nicer color.”

“Why do you like red?”

“It’s obvious, right? It’s the color of fun. Red feels so good on the tongue– wine, fruits...other things...Red can’t help but be delicious.”

“I– stop, stop walking towards me. We talked about this; I’ll call the guards.”

“Oh, what’ll they do? Hurt me? As though I still feel?”

“Get away from me!”

“They should know I don’t care what happens to me anymore. I’m slated to die next month, yes? The appeal didn’t go through, because I wasn’t showing sufficient remorse. God, you’re so obsessed with me feeling... you want real feeling? Cause these damned white walls are making me feel agitated.”

“Take a breath, let’s just calm–”

“And you want regret? I’ll make you regret living long enough to deny my appeal. I’ll make you regret every single day of your life; I’ll make you regret your ability to feel, too.”

“Guards! Guards!”

“They’re not coming. No one’s gonna save you, not anymore. You’re gonna help me paint these walls red– and it’ll be delicious.”