Broken

By the door is a red button he mustn’t touch—otherwise, he can do as he pleases down here, eating from the well-stocked refrigerator, lounging in front of the magnificent TV, and yet while he’s watching movies that damned button keeps catching his eye, and at night its soft glow wakes him, calling to him, relentless, until finally he just can’t bear it and mashes the button with his fist, and when nothing happens—no blaring sirens, no flashing lights—he slumps with his forehead on his knees, unburdened at last, not knowing that close by sharp instruments are being prepared.