In this version of my hometown, there are no homes, no street names, nothing recognizable. Just rows and rows of concrete blocks on black asphalt roads, and I can't find the place where I'm supposed to be.Yet, somehow I have arrived. I'm sitting at an empty desk; behind me, I can sense a full room, but I can only see glimpses of people's faces out the periphery of my eyes. I don't dare turn around completely.
I'm especially afraid to lift my head and face the figure in front of me. As I slowly raise my head, though, I see that his body is covered in a heavy black robe, and when my eyes reach his face, I gasp.
The mouth is smiling, but empty black-eye slits, onion skin and a broken, distorted shape make the face's expression sarcastic. Cruel. Horrible, I can't breath. But eventually, I realize it's just a mask, and I exhale.
"Please," I beg.
He reaches up as if in slow motion to remove the mask and pronounce judgement.
"Guilty."
I collapse covering my face with my hands. I am broken but at the same time relieved that it's over. I accept the verdict..
The face in front of me after all is my own.
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