It was Sunday

It was Sunday the woman realised. With the authorities saying people had to remain indoors – for their own safety you understand – all the days seemed to blur in to one. With many people – if they were fortunate – being able to work from home, the woman, like many she knew, often had to think whether it was a weekday or a weekend.

It was Sunday though that’s for sure. The woman liked Sundays. She’d always be first up on a Sunday to have some time to herself for her mindfulness. And this Sunday was no different. So, she left her husband snoring in bed got dressed and went downstairs.

It looked like a beautiful day and she decided she’d take her daily one-hour exercise now. Not that many people would be outside, and if they were, they’d be on their own, keeping the regulation 2 metres apart from anyone else.

The woman set off from her home. She was careful to keep moving – the authorities didn’t like it if you stopped during your allowed hour, and woe betide you if you sat down. Yesterday she’d seen an old man being told off by the authorities for taking a breather on a park bench. He could have been fined.

The streets were empty. The authorities liked to see the streets empty. They liked to see the public spaces empty. The authorities would have preferred it if everyone stayed indoors all the time – for their own safety you understand. But that wasn’t practical. People needed to shop, to exercise, to go to see their doctor.

Although the woman enjoyed some quiet time on her own, she also missed the usual buzz of the town and seeing people she knew.

Through social media, the woman had heard that on Friday “a man had been detained for questioning” by the authorities. She had met the Man on a few occasions. He was a teacher. He was a good man, a quiet man, a man of peace. She couldn’t understand why he’d been detained.

But the worst part was his closest friends were saying he’d not returned on Friday evening. The woman knew what that meant.

She found herself walking towards a suburb of the town you were wise to avoid. A part of town where there was a patch of waste ground where apparently the authorities took people for questioning. A patch of waste ground from which people never returned.

The woman found herself passing the waste ground. A member of the authorities was stood on guard. “Keep moving along please madam” the soldier said.

But the woman stopped and found herself speaking to the soldier – though she kept the regulation 2 metres away. “Someone I knew was brought here on Friday” she said boldly. “What would have happened to him? Where would they have taken him after, you know”

The soldier looked around nervously. “You didn’t hear it from me. But most likely he would have been taken away to be disposed of, know what I mean? No one returns from here. Now move on sister.”

The woman left and she found herself crying. Why kill the Man? And if they could do it to him who next? It made no sense. But there on the waste ground, early on a Friday morning, the authorities had set about their work. Their work of finding out answers. Their work of teaching a man, the Man, a lesson. Their work of punishment.

And there on the waste ground, the waste ground in the suburb you avoided, the Man who had helped the authorities with their enquiries, had died. And then been disposed of.

The woman turned toward her home, conscious that she’d had 40 minutes exercise and in theory anyway, she should be home in 20 minutes. “Stuff that” the woman said. And she carried on walking.

A man who seemed vaguely familiar was just ahead of her on the other side of the road. Over 2 metres away. “It’s a beautiful morning isn’t it?” he said “Is it?” she replied bitterly. And then for some reason she started pouring out the story of the teacher who had been arrested, the Man had ‘been disposed of’

The man listened and nodded and asked one or two question. Why was she talking like this? To a stranger. And yet she seemed to think she knew him. But she couldn’t place him. He reminded her of someone.

They came to one of the unofficial coffee stalls that sometimes sprung up. “Fancy a coffee and a croissant?” the man said. Why not? The man bought her a drink and a croissant, placed it in a bag and left it in the middle of the road for her to collect. She rubbed her hands with sanitiser and picked the bag up.

The man smiled and raised his coffee cup and broke the croissant. “Bless you sister” he said and started to walked off.

“Wait!” the woman said “I know who you are, you’re the Man! The teacher! But how can it be so? You were dead and the soldier told me you were disposed of!”

But the Man had disappeared from her sight.

The woman ran home eager to tell others what she'd seen, what she'd experienced. To tell others "It's true! The Man isn't dead. He is alive! I recognised him as we shared coffee together"