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The Final Cut

by Catherine Thomas

He woke up in a rather good mood. It was Monday and he decided that today was, for sure, the right day.  He began to hum while shaving and even smiled to himself in the mirror, failing to notice his tired and haggard face.  He neatly laid the table for breakfast and polished his shoes before going down to the baker's.

He was sure this morning was going to be the successful one, but he tried not to think to much about it as he waited for the lift.  He had considered taking the stairs, but had thought that waiting for the lift would help him control his impatience.  He was too scared at the idea that his hopes might be disappointed once again.  He would know in a few minutes anyway, so better not get too excited.

He had noticed by the window that it was raining, which was a bad sign, but he did not want to pay too much attention to any good or bad omens for fear that it might come real.  He tried to concentrate on the flashing light of the lift button.

Mrs Neighbour greeted him with a quick "bonjour" and an absent-minded smile as she stepped out of the lift.  She never paid any attention to this pale, insignificant young man who had moved in a couple of months ago and whom she came across every morning on her way back from the baker's.  Today though, she took a backward glance before she disappeared in her flat.  There was something special about him, something different, but she could not tell what. 

It kept bothering her for a while and she caught herself thinking about it while she was preparing her toast.  As usual, she threw away one slice of bread that the machine had failed to cut; it was too thick to be of any use.  They should have their slicing machine repaired, she thought , it's been missing slices for ages now and this is beginning to be really annoying.  She put aside her bread problems to go back to the man's appearance today.  His jacket was the same as usual, she was pretty certain, and she had not noticed the rest.  It must have been something else that had struck her.

She remembered the first time she had met him.  He had asked her shyly where the baker's shop was and had been delighted to learn that there was one downstairs, right on the corner. He had thanked her warmly and it was the first and only time she had seen him smile.  Oh, that was it!  He had smiled at her this morning.  Very unusual, indeed!  She leaned out of the window just in time to see him turn the corner and enter the baker's shop. 

He forced himself to breathe slowly, remembering the doctor's advice.  Here comes the big moment, he told himself, unable to calm himself.  He stared at the baker as the words died in his throat.  Fortunately, the woman hardly paid attention.  She asked cheerfully "One sliced loaf, as usual?", and without waiting for the answer, she went to the machine in the back, sliced the bread, put it into a pink paper bag and handed it to him.  He was in such a state of panic that he dropped his wallet twice and had difficulty collecting his change.  "You should try and relax", said the woman kindly, smiling at him.  He felt his cheeks blush and ran out of the shop.

He rushed straight to the stairs, failing to notice that the lift was available, and went up the seven floors without a pause.  Out of breath, he kicked his door open and hurried to the kitchen.  He opened the bag feverishly, took the bread out and let out a cry of desperation.

This would never end, then!  He must be cursed!  This was too much:  he had tried to ignore it first, then he had decided to be understanding and patient.  He was sure it could not last for ever, today was to be the great day, he had been so full of hope!  He could not stand it any more!

He suddenly felt dizzy and sick.  He had to sit down.  A violent anger was slowly overwhelming him and he began to scream, as loud as he could, to the point where his head hurt. 

Mrs Neighbour heard him scream and wished she were as deaf as the old lady nextdoor.  What was one supposed to do in such cases?  Maybe the poor man needed some help?  She adventured onto the landing and came across the young dentist from downstairs who had been alarmed by the screams.  He decided to go and see what was wrong upstairs and she followed him, admiring his courage and his sense of decision.

As they entered the flat the door of which was still open, Mrs Neighbour felt very ill at ease.  The scene was pathetic.  The man was crying his eyes out and his whole body was shaking.  The young dentist said the man was having a nervous breakdown and he was going back downstairs to his office to get some tranquillisers.  Mrs Neighbour was feeling more and more embarrassed staring at this desperate looking man and wanted to leave him but the dentist had asked her to look after him.  As she moved towards a chair, the man noticed her and stood up.

"It's been fifteen weeks", he sobbed, "fifteen weeks, day after day.  I can't stand it any more".

Mrs Neighbour was desperately thinking for something to say but he did not give her a chance.  He handed her a slice of bread and went on:

"It does not make a proper toast this one, you see, it's too thick, I can't use it.  I eat the others trying to ignore it but I feel it's there, I know it's in there, in the bag, challenging me.  I tried to slice it myself several times, but it breaks into crumbles all over the table.  When the whole bread is finished, there is always this thick useless slice left, and it keeps annoying me in the kitchen.  I can't use it, you see, but I can't throw it away, for it's food after all.  I'm surrounded with useless thick bread slices.  I was sure they would have had their machine repaired today because it's Monday and it's been so long now.  Fifteen weeks!"

He broke down again.  Mrs Neighbour was suddenly overwhelmed with great anger herself.  It was true, very true that this bloody overthick slice of bread had been annoying her for a long time now.  Only because this stupid baker did not bother to have his machine repaired.  It was scandalous, really.  How many times had she cursed at this bloody machine, and lost her temper because of this useless thick slice of bread ?  She was sure it had altered her health.  This was really too much!  Overwhelmed by artificial but effective anger, she started to cry too.

Coming back with the tranquillisers, the young dentist found himself with two patients and could not understand what was going on.  Mrs Neighbour was now incapable of uttering any intelligible word and seemed to be very depressed herself.  He decided to call the local doctor, explaining he had two cases of nervous breakdown, one of which was very serious.  Taking note of the address, the doctor sighed

"The slicing machine again!"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Nothing, it's the fiftieth case in the neighbourhood this week.  By the way, do you eat sliced bread yourself?"

"Well, hum, no, I usually have French baguettes, but I don't see..."

"Never mind, I'll be there in five minutes"