Today was the final day of Samson’s life.
He got out of bed and cleared his bedside table, just as he did first thing every morning. He showered, dressed, shaved, ate a slice of toast, brushed his teeth and went to work. It was tough to get through the day at work, but then he had not found anything positive about his job in a long time.
Break was a welcome fifteen minutes. Samson went outside for a smoke and thought about never going back inside the building ever again. His workplace was cold and uninviting and if they ever asked him to use his brain or helped him to advance then he thought he would have a heart attack from the shock. The smoking shelter, however, was colder. His fifteen minutes became twenty seven minutes, and he slumped back inside.
The final afternoon of Samson’s life was no more eventful than the final morning of his life.
He finished work, went home and flicked through the channels on the television one after the other until he at least accepted that there was bugger all on. Samson turned off the television and sat staring at the blank screen, losing track of time in the shiny blackness.
Dinner was a quiet affair. He microwaved a meal for one and sat eating it with a dirty fork whilst idly flicking through Facebook. Some of his friends were going out, others were talking about their families, and almost all of them were sharing useless crap …
Friends, of course, was a stretch. He had not actually seen any of them in years, let alone spoken to any of them. But whoever they were, they were busy – and then there was Samson. All alone on the final night of his life.
By ten in the evening he was fed up. He went to the medicine cabinet and took down all of the boxes of tablets, arranging them neatly in a line on his bedside table, just as he did every night. He climbed into bed and rolled over onto his side to stare at the pills, wondering how many of them he would need to take to get it just right.
Samson closed his eyes and fell to sleep. Tomorrow, he would wake to the final day of his life. He always did.