S1036B

Eventually, the boulder began to roll down again.

I turned my gaze to Meursault.

His face, screwed up and straining; his cheek, pressed tight against the boulder; his shoulder, beneath the sediment-covered mass; and his leg, braced to support it. At the end of the outstretched arms were his hands, caked with dirt. And there, in Meursault, I saw a certainty that was wholly human.

A human drenched in sweat.

<Are you all right, Meursault?>

........

The boulder was heavy. The slightest error in balancing it sent it rolling down again.

<... That must've been a hard punishment to bear.>

... It wasn't a punishment, Manager.

I have never once... regarded the act of rolling that boulder... as punishment.

<But... you were hurting.>

Yes.

And yet, ironically... within that continuous pain...

... I found enjoyment.

<... You enjoyed it?>

Yes. When I was going downhill again to retrieve the boulder.

I knew I was bound to return for it, that it would invariably fall again, that it would hurt. But at very occasional moments...

I enjoyed it.