Judgement to Ashes

At last, here we are. Oh, shall I tell you? – The alarm goes off at 3 o’clock in the morning; I get up, in my usual good spirits. There was no time for ‘breakfast’; I had to fast, so that perhaps the heavens might recognise my effort. I got dressed after a freezing cold shower and set off — alone, of course — through the dark streets. I didn’t live very far away, but far enough to tire me out. When I arrived, I saw the bus we were to be travelling on… — That sweet blush that makes me lose my head! — with its imposing two storeys and a few people already gathered round it. Upon finally entering the building, I pretended not to notice the inquisitive gaze of a ‘resentful’ woman, whom I’d recently upset — and I have no intention of leaving any scores unsettled, of course.

The circumstances — quite by mere chance — led to an agonising, chilling sensation that something was ‘out of place’, almost as if, in the end, carrying on with something that ought to have been buried were a rejection of, and a provocation to, the generous kindness of fate! Everyone, just like us, was waiting in their respective classrooms — well, it was only to be expected that more classes would be coming. — . My classmates were in a peculiar mood; we were off to the beaches at Itaúnas, though no ‘bikinis’ or even… ‘revealing’… outfits — as it was merely a ‘field trip’, which at the same time wasn’t — as these would lead to behaviour inconsistent with the institution’s required standards and guidelines.

The door opens. Ah, not yet. It was just the lecturer; surely he wasn’t there to make fun of us? Not yet, but in a way it would be hilarious rather than ironic if–

— Guys, I’ll be one of the lecturers in charge of accompanying you on the trip, OK? — (…). That damned, loathsome accent, mixed with a morbid, robotic eloquence; confined to the very bias of ‘political correctness’. (!!).

Have I been betrayed!?… No, this thought, laid bare here, strikes me as childish, so this was just… nothing more than fair.

Why the delay? – I’d feel much calmer if she’d just turn up and put an end to this lie! – She should have arrived by now; would it be wise to go down and fetch her myself!?

Calm down… she’ll turn up sooner or later… she’s…

Minutes passed. The door opened!

— Time to go down. When you get downstairs, stay in a queue and wait, with your authorisation in hand, for your names to be called — (…). An icy voice, calloused fingers, long grey hair (already balding), slightly worn black trousers, trainers adorned with sparkling stones – Anyway. It was just the lady in charge of organising this trip. (Blayt!).

“When I see you, my blood boils. Oh, heavens! May that damned thermometer deny my fever!”:

—… on that one, I have to admit it sounded like my grandfather speaking.

— …

(I admit I was blind… Come now!?)

Everyone has already risen cheerfully. “And I, only I, with my immense pain, my eyes bloodshot as I lie awake.” Dear Mr Augusto dos Anjos, thank you for the fitting poetry.

They’re already rushing me. Good heavens, what’s taking so long!