I'm walking the mile, but mine's not green, it's brown sprinkled with blue and ochre panels. On the end of my mile there also stands a chair but it is not designed for physical execution, it's a normal office chair in which my student-self will be killed in a few moments.
The professor in the chair opposite of me starts talking, but after the first few sentences my mind trails of. The first line from the Doors' song "The End" starts wandering around my head and i think: "This must be how it feels like to die in a calm mood." Removed from oneself and somehow absent, a little bit relieved even. At what seem to be the right spots i nod or say "Mhm", "Yes" and "I understand.", even if i don't.
At the end of our "conversation", i shake the profs hand, turn around and start walking the mile back up, leaving behind the corpse of my student-self to be deposed of by some bureaucrat.
I'm not quite sure what i should do now. While getting angry or crying at first seem like viable options i decide against them in favour of walking around aimlessly. Revolving in my mind the question "What now?" seems to get bigger and bigger.
There is no plan B.
Eventually after an hour or so "The End" is replaced by "These boots are made for walkin' ". I'm still not sure, what i'll do, but i know i'll be able to move on. While i'm beginning to recover, a question pops into my head: "Why is it that you, a man born in the 1980s and not interested in music until the early years of the new millenium, come up with two songs of the mid-1960s?" and Bram Stokers true laughter pays me a visit.
I'm not fine, but nothing is forever and so - hopefully - i'll find my place.