Whispers followed him along the corridor, hushed, behind the railings.
- It's an old man ...
- ... no troubles ...
- They say he killed an whole family ...
- Long time ago ...
- … Do you believe it?
The guards were pretending not to hear a word. It was no longer the same people who had seen the prisoner come in after his conviction.
How long, already?
Fifteen years, sixteen years? Maybe more.
The old man was no trouble. Never. He did not say a thing, worked hard, did not get involved in others' business.
An old chap who had certainly paid off his debt to society, now.
He deserved to go out and die in his home town, like a free man.
They gave him his hat, his coat. A former prisoner was entitled to some dignity.
He respectfully greeted the guard who – a little puzzled - opened the prison heavy gate.
Certainly this quiet grandfather was not the inmate they released this day, but rather a visitor…
He raised a hand to protect his face when the winter sun wrapped him.
The warm sun on his wrinkled skin did not seem the same when he walked in the prison courtyard.
He smiled.
He was free.
At last.
