There they stood in a line, the guillotine sat smugly at a distance that felt a million miles away. All I happened to be doing was passing by when one man caught my eye, a cold blue that I had recognized.

I never knew the man’s real name other than the nickname that was used by his neighbors. They called him Saddy for how unfortunate his life had been. Saddy’s fiancée died just a few weeks before the wedding. His only child was taken away by the fiancée’s parents, and I am led to belive that they blamed the death on the poor man. Saddy fell into the clutches of alcoholism and spent his days drinking where the light wouldn’t find him. He chugged bottle after bottle in a fit of tears as if drinking would help him forget. But those kinds of things linger and rot deep in your bones. That man didn’t have anything to live for.

We all felt bad for him, but we never said anything. I could have helped and maybe then he could have something to live for.

No one saw Saddy for a week or so, and we thought he had finally drunk himself to an early grave. A neighbor was telling me that Saddy became so desperate for food that he stole a considerable amount from a very expensive shop. It’s such a shame really, he’s so young and should be living the bedt years of his life without grief following him with a chokehold.

It’s also hard to believe that stealing deserves such a punishment as the guillotine.

I watched as a stone faces guard led Saddy up to the platfrom. It was a particularly sunny day, and the early rays of light shone just right on the elated tears from Saddy’s eyes. I swear I heard him thank the executioner through his sobs. I didn’t stay to watch the end of that unfortunate man’s life.

But maybe I will call it an accomplishment to say that, even if it was the last moments of his life, I saw the happiest man alive.