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A murderer sits strapped tightly in the electric chair…
The executioner stands beside the chair, his hand resting on the lever, his face impassive beneath his uniform’s shadow.
The executioner clears his throat and looks down at the condemned man…
“Have you any last requests?” he asks, his voice steady, almost routine.
The murderer shakes his head, his expression calm, “No,” he replies bluntly.
The executioner, used to people changing their minds at the last second, raises an eyebrow…
“This is your final chance,” he says, leaning in slightly…
“Are you sure you don’t have any last requests? Anything at all?”
The murderer hesitates, his brow furrowing in thought.
Seconds pass, and then the man nods slowly, “Come to think of it, yes I do,” he says, his voice calm but deliberate…
“I do have a request.”
The executioner straightens up, his professional demeanor not quite hiding a flicker of curiosity…
“Alright,” he says, ready to grant a final act of grace. “What is it?”
The murderer glances up at him, his expression unchanging…
“Will you hold my hand?”
