The room is lit by harsh white light, no shadows being
visible in the four square corners. In the middle lies a brown wooden table with
a green vase and a blue flower. At the far end the grinder.
The white floor moves incrementally towards the grinder.
The table and plant would be the first, and then I too would be crushed. The
grinder is metallic and mechanical, it has circular rows of sharp galvanized
steel teeth, and the loud, churning, electric drone of the grinder clouds my mind and my
thoughts become confused, as if in a fever, as I head inevitably towards my
death.
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