The Interview

by solaris2001

The room was indistinguishable but would gradually become unforgettable. He sat down in the cold, bare metal chair across from the imposing but familiar steel desk, topped only with a murky glass ashtray into which the interviewer flicked the ashes of a freshly lit cigarette. The interviewer smiled and took a long drag before leaning forward and veiling him in a cloud of smoke. He squinted and coughed as the hot fog penetrated his lungs. When his eyes cleared, the burning tip of the cigarette was closer to his face than before. The interviewer leaned against the desk, asking nothing.