Danny stared at the clock. Quarter to noon. Almost free to go. Free. He turned the word over in his mind and his thin lips smiled.
The doctor released the blood pressure valve. “So far so good, Mr. Rolen.”
“Knew it would be," Danny said. "So, we done here or what?”
The doctor wrote in his chart. “Almost.” He flipped a page, adjusted his glasses, wiped sweat from his brow. “Looks like you’re due for a tetanus shot.”
“Not surprised," Danny said. "Been here seven years. Make it quick, though, will ya, Doc? Got places to go now, y'know.”
“Of course you do.”
The doctor inserted a needle into Danny’s arm. Danny looked to the clock again, smiling. Five minutes ‘til. He returned his gaze to doctor, and swooned. His vision bruised and blurred. “What’s…” he sputtered, and closed his eyes. The black fuzz at the back of his mind curdled; his breath stilled.
The doctor spoke into an intercom. “Condemned Prisoner 12583473, Rolen, Daniel, executed mercifully, unwitting, and smiling.”
