Liang feels dirty. The sweat on his back makes his blue shirt stick to the skin. It has even gone with gravity through the belt down to his underpants. If he looks down while holding back his chin, he could see the tip end of his beard. The beard is not long enough to tangle and stick together. But his hair is. It is as if someone had poured leftover pork grease on his head. It starts to smell.

He feels as there is a torch light shining right behind his neck. It is hot in here. The four dead-grey walls support a blackened white ceiling with a square close window in the center where the strong light comes from. The slim opaque window right in front of him does not look elegant at all. A child’s ear-size rusty hook makes it impossible to open. The door at the back of him is closed. There is no air in here. He does not feel comfortable sitting on this fading-blue chair. It seems the right front leg is shorter than the rest. His right leg has been supporting half pressure of his body and starts feeling numb.

He was told to wait here. He doesn’t know why the four men came to the machine room while he was taking a break, ready to eat the rice ball that he brought with him this morning. He doesn’t know them, even though they wear the same uniform blue shirt as his. They must be working in other department. After all this is a big company. It is natural he doesn’t know all of his co-workers. They didn’t say a word when they came in. His supervisor, a stout man with a moustache above his fat mouth, came shortly after. He told him to finish his rice ball and leave with them. “How about the work in the machine room?” he asked. The supervisor replied impatiently: “You just go with them. Don’t worry about the work.” Liang was worried that the machine wouldn’t run properly long enough when he was gone because he had heard clinking sound from the below and was about to check underneath the machine as soon as he finished his rice ball. The four men and the supervisor stood there watching him eating. Liang looked at them while holding the rice ball in his hand close to his mouth and starting eating quickly without chewing much. He wanted to tell the supervisor about the clinking sound, but their silence and staring muted him. He left with the four men with the rice still in his mouth.

No one comes.

He doesn’t know how long he has to wait there, but he must have been in the room for a long time already. The light is weakening. He slowly raises his butt and tries to stand up, but the sharp pain in his right leg makes him sit right down again. He moves his right leg up a little while sitting back against the back of the chair and supporting himself with the left leg. The sharp pain continues. He steps down the right foot on the dirt floor, and stretches up again in a kicking position. After a few times, the pain fades. He stands up, and walked to the slim window. He stands on the tip of his toes to look outside of the window, but can’t make out what are outsides. Under the dim light through this matte surface window, he only sees a shape of a long wall and a tall structure with a pointed roof in a remote distance. He has never come to this side of the company property. He doesn’t know there is such a long wall close to the company, but he knows the tall structure must be the light house where he often takes his three-year-old son and his wife there in his days off. He stands on his feet again and starts pacing along the walls.

Soon it is dark, and starts raining. His wife must have been worried that he is still not home yet at this time of the day. He knocks on the door a few times. No one answers. The rain becomes heavier. There must be a crack on the window up there. A rain drop splashes on his right cheek, soon comes another in his right eye. He moves away to the corner next to the slim window. At least it is cooler now. His shirt is dry and doesn’t stick on his skin any more. He sits down on the floor at the corner and watches the rain drops on the dirt floor. In the beginning, the dirt on the floor absorbs the rain. Gradually, it becomes muddy puddle on that very spot the rain constantly drops on.

He falls asleep.

Suddenly, a man covers his head with a rice bag, grabs his arm, pulls him up, and starts dragging him out in the open. It is still raining. His hands are shaking. His whole body is shivering. He pisses himself. He can’t see anything. Only a strong light constantly comes and goes. He screams but the heavy rain muffles his cry. He stumbles again and again, but the man keeps pulling him up and pushing him to walk forward. He hears someone cries out: “Halt there.” The man turns him around. Gunshots go off. Liang falls down.