Gold Medal

[excerpt]

I led her to the wooden chair and sat her down. Her chest heaved as she clenched the armrests, trying to steady her breath. Oh, the joy I would have felt if she had broken the whole chair with her bare hands. Then, I might not have had to say goodbye. But that was wishful thinking. The people behind the glass window would’ve added another useless sin on her shoulders. The others in the room would eventually pull the same straps over her, thinking that they’re fulfilling the purpose of the gold medal on their chest.

Tears trailed down her brown cheeks. Or perhaps it was sweat- I couldn’t tell. She scanned the people behind the glass window, ignoring my gaze – ignoring the fact that I never dared to pull one of those straps. Yet I couldn’t blame her. I wasn’t destined to sit on that chair. Those who decided her fate, those who listened to the ensemble of hisses, determined that she was worthy of the seat and I wasn’t.

I should be worthy. Everyone in that room should be. We partook in the same crime she was accused of: stealing from the innocent.

It was too selfish to expect her to give me the gift of seeing the gold in her eyes. Even if I was going to watch that gold be mined, I wanted the reassurance that I truly knew what the golden medals meant.

[continue reading in the magazine]