The Man who was once a doctor walked towards the coliseum. As he walked, he thought about all he had done in his life, the ups and the downs, everything he could remember. As the crowd roared he thought of a special time in his life, the last enjoyable Christmas he had celebrated, many years ago, at his family's house.
"C'mon, open your present!" his mother had said "Your Father and I had to look for hours to find this"
She had positively radiated pride for her son when he finished medical school and began work as a doctor. Even his father, who had rarely expressed any positive emotion since the war, seemed proud. It had been one of the happiest times of his life, and his present had made it all the better.
"Ok mom, give me a second to figure out how to untie the bow!" They laughed, even though he had graduated medical school, he could never figure out how to work simple things like the knot on the bow, which his family always seemed to tie unnaturally tight. His eyes gleamed and his parent's faces beamed as he opened what would be the best Christmas present he would ever receive, why it was just what he...-he was startled from his memory as he grew closer to his destination, one of the spectators had thrown something at him, a rock perhaps? It didn't matter; it wouldn't change where he was going or why he was going there.
The Man thought about a philosophy of his, how he had learned at an early age to question everything, and to not stop until he had an answer. He thought about how long he had held that mindset, and how it had led him to where he was now, marching towards what would be his final destination. It had always seemed so simple back when he was a child, even when he was in college, and beginning his work as a doctor, he hadn't questioned it much, only during these last three weeks had he questioned, possibly even abandoned his idea. It had all seemed so simple these first few days; he had even grown to like the quiet. The next few days had been a bit worse, but bearable, but as time moved on he realized the quiet didn't seem as quiet as it did before. He was going insane and he knew it, the sheer size of the audience proved it. He remembered a time when he had wished that the last three weeks would happen, that he wouldn't have to deal with the struggles other people put into his life, but that was a bygone age for him, and now he wished with all his soul that they never would've happened. Suddenly a flood of memories came rushing back to him, they pushed back the dam his mind had made and flowed forth into view. He remembered the birth of his son, one of if not the happiest memories of his life, and when that one came an unbearable amount of love and sadness with it, nearly bringing him to his knees at the entrance to the stadium. He remembered when he first met his wife, memory brought back tons of emotion with it as well, but he managed to stay standing as he thought of their first conversation as they walked through the art museum. He remembered his father's funeral, and his mother's tears that went hand in hand with his. Most recently he remembered the crime he had committed that landed him here where he was, walking towards the center of the stadium, where a flimsily built gallows laid waiting as the crowd screamed and yelled. He had done a horrible thing yes, or rather, was walking towards doing it, one step at a time. He was committing murder, that was for sure, and it was the last human on Earth, himself, that he was killing. It seemed that more tears fell and that more memories came back with each passing step that he took towards the gallows that he had built in what was once a football stadium before everyone disappeared. He put the noose on his neck as he would have put on a hat, but he didn't stop at his head, he pulled it lower, around his neck. The crowd had disappeared; they had never been there to begin with, but were all products of his unbearable solitude, as were the unconscious suppression of his memories. Until now that is, he remembered everything he made himself forget, and now he wished he hadn't, he remembered his family who were gone, he remembered his friends, their families, he remembered the laughter he shared with all of them. As he jumped from the platform and ended his life his Christmas present fell from his arms, the journal of his life for the past ten years flew through the air, opening on an obsolete memory.
