Last Monday the apartment next to mine moved out in an incredible hurry. From one day to the next someone new moved in. It seems they’re not really from around these parts. At least, they don’t give much consideration to how thin the walls are in the buildings here. I’m sitting in my kitchen, trying to eat my breakfast, as one does, and they’re going off like at any moment they might ask me to pass them the butter.
: Look what the cat dragged in. You’re late.
THE LATE: The late. I’ve been looking for you for days, but I keep seeing your face everywhere I go.
: I don’t want to hear it. I told you I’d be back here, where we met last time, the time before, in fact every time, and where you first found me. And you know that even if I’d hide, I would only ever hide for you to find me. But, regardless, so you’re finally ready for your big trip, then?
THE LATE: I’m sorry, I’ve been a bit out of sorts. I’ve finally ran out of lives and it shows. It’s all bleeding into each other. Every turn is the same alleyway. I’ve just been going round and round.
: You know what you suffer from? You’re lazy, like far-off birds in a child’s painting, you’re lazy. Wait, did you close the door thoroughly? Yes? Make sure, please. Lazy! You need a real firm hand on your shoulder, is what. Where’s your friend?
THE LATE: My friend left. Everyone is always leaving, they must be hiding from me. I need to go somewhere far away for summer. I need to hide away as well. Somewhere really far. Somewhere warm, a womb.
: Knock and the door will be opened to you!
THE LATE: Maybe in Heaven, but not on this Earth.
: Ha! No, quite the contrary. You’re one to lock the door and then try to enter. That is very different. But anyway, I can look a bit into your file for you. I don’t know where exactly it is that you’ll be going, but rest assured I know enough to sign off on it. You’ll be right on your way. All is in order.
THE LATE: What do you mean, you don’t know? Where am I going?
: I prefer not to know what happens after. It all just makes me very sullen. Things like this can really kill a day, you know? You know how many of you I go through in a typical nine-to-five? Some days even I am just waiting to clock out, you know? And who cares where you go? Nothing you worry about now will matter a year from now. It’ll all be long forgotten. You’ll be forgotten. With a little luck, I’ll even have forgotten this meeting—all this week’s meetings! Rest easy, let it go, be glad, while you can.
THE LATE: What? This is ridiculous. I should at least know. Is there no one else I could talk to? I don’t want to be at the mercy of a stroke of just anybody’s pen. I don’t feel like I’m asking for the world here. I get that even the hangman can have a bad day, or whatever, but I need to know at least that. Maybe I was wrong to come here, I never meant to do the things I did. I wasn’t myself, you must understand. Can we maybe run it back? And who are you really, anyway, to just sign off on just anything, to have final say-so on my situation?
: It’s not me, it’s the contract you’re bound by. I don’t have to be anybody. Your intentions are irrelevant, there’s consequences to any action. A lever trips a wire.
THE LATE: I believe you mean to say I tripped on your wire.
: And to answer your question: as of the moment you closed that door behind you, I’ve become your whole world. You coming in has set this entire procedure in motion. Don’t try to spin it, now. It wasn’t me, but you. You made a choice. Now, the real question is: who were you? While you still had the chance.
THE LATE: A piece of paper. Ha, of course. Go ahead and look. I hope you like what you see. I’m nothing you haven’t seen a million times. I’m a salary man, a nobody, an also‑ran, an absentee. You wouldn’t miss me when I’m not there, or notice me when I am. What’s even the point, then, for all this paperwork? And also, what moral ground does a contract signed under duress have, anyway? You think I put my name on that line for fun?
: What gives you the idea that morals come into play here? But, so, you are fluent in five languages?
THE LATE: What? Give that!
: Crack a smile, will ya? Don’t you know you’re going to die?
THE LATE: That doesn’t come easy with nothing but your own lip between your teeth. I’ve been long dead. I died the day I quit. It’s over and over, and that wasn’t even the big one. If you remember well—
: Enough, enough. I don’t, and I’d like to keep it that way. But, hmn, yes, I see. So, yes, it truly is most unfortunate to take from those who have nothing to start out with, but could I perhaps be so bold?
THE LATE: Have them all! God, you’re salivating. I don’t have any use for them anymore anyway.
: Yes, yes, quite right. So, have you seen everything you wanted to?
THE LATE: I’ve been everywhere I needed to.
: I’d offer you one, but, you know.
THE LATE: Thanks.
: Er—if you think those things are the same. I’d say it’s better to regret something you did than something you didn’t. And it’s pointless to worry about things out of your control, so worry about what is, you know? But it’s too late for that now. We’ve been over this, many times we’ve been over this, yet here we are again! Do you have anything—anything at all—to say for yourself?
THE LATE: I don’t know. I wasn’t listening, or thinking. Whichever is better. I was in a bad way. You saw me yourself, like you said.
: You don’t change, do you? You might as well be chewing gum at me. You’re one to trade one symbol of irreverence for another. What good is that?
THE LATE: It was an accident! I didn’t mean to be hard-headed. I never do mean to be, if that’s what you think.
: Right, and it so appears you are someone who has a lot of these accidents happen to them.
THE LATE: They brushed their nose against my cheek and whispered in my ear. What was I to do?
: You always have something to say, I’ll give you that. There’s always something, some kind of story. Unfortunately, you’re not giving me anything of use. It’s all empty words. Always act like you have no hand in anything, not even the lies. Trouble doesn’t spurt from the ground, you know?
THE LATE: Rats don’t see their meals as stolen, flies don’t see themselves as dirty, and crows believe swans are no less guilty.
: That’s not quite how I would describe this here, current situation. It’s like you think we can’t tell, but I know you know better, so I don’t quite understand what you’re playing at.
THE LATE: You said this, I said that. Isn’t it all a tad gratuitous? I don’t need to do the whole to and fro. At this point I know, you know, what more is there to say? Can’t we just skip to the eternal hellfire already?
: Shush!
THE LATE: And if I remember well, wasn’t it you who told me it had been the right tree in the first place?
: And you believed me? Don’t you know who I am? You would have had to have been a little smarter than that if you had wanted to make it out here, in the real world. Maybe it’ll be better for you tucked away. Safer.
THE LATE: Believe me, I do. I know who you are. When I first met you, I wanted to be big and strong like you, but then with time I figured it wasn’t like that at all, and you weren’t. Then I began seeing you for who you are, or were, or have been. Say, does your mother know you’re a liar?
: Ah yes, cutting. I’ll get to thinking about that in a moment. That is, after you’re all cleared out of here.
THE LATE: I also rather drink alone than with company.
: Yes, yes, very well. But so, you say you saw me? That’s cute. You began seeing me for who exactly? Anyone we know? The merciful, the benevolent, the indifferent, the jealous, the scornful?
THE LATE: Who are you now? Right this minute.
: My! Why ask? Have you lost your mind?
THE LATE: Even the most prostrate shiners of your brogues haven’t had you budge in meetings like these. Am I wrong? Tell me.
: You’re not wrong, but not for the right reason.
THE LATE: But I know a thing or two, don’t I? I know these exit interviews never turn around. That’s as much as I need to know. So, who?
: Fine. As always, I’m still myself! Now, enough—really. You are a funny one. I can’t say I’m looking forward to it, but I’ll have to work to forget you.
THE LATE: How’s that funny?
: Because, you know, they say a person rises on a word, but falls on a syllable. Being around for things not meant for you, is exactly why you’re here. And now? What? You never do learn, do you? Wouldn’t even take your own advice. Once and always! You’ve had ample opportunity up until now, many chances. But now it’s time for the opposite of living in the present: the time that’s been foretold! Are you ready to face it head on, for once?
THE LATE: I think it’s more consistent with my character to let myself fall into it with my back turned. I think I’ll stick to what I know.
: Very well. Either way, it won’t matter much anymore. Can I trust you to find your own way out? You are expected first thing in the morning. Here’s your slip. Now, out of my sight.
THE LATE: Thanks.
: Hey, wait.
THE LATE: Yeah?
: If I were you, I’d run.
THE LATE: Thanks.