It wasn’t the same without my thick-skinned friend, with neither left to challenge nor to trick. Living in an abyss of utter predictability or with a ‘tick-tock’ in a loopy minute made me visit his neighborhood. I wonder that if anyone would remember his face or his ugly grin at the end of every question.
I walked past through the narrow streets and it took me an hour to reach their apartment. The street looks more like an orphanage as almost every window is preoccupied with a kid or an adult, waiting for someone. My friend used to say that the stranger gets at least a ten-people stare. I counted and the results began to surpass,
“What the hell…” The Orphan came towards me.
“Jesus, where have you been for a month?” I asked him.
“In my house, duh..”
“What happened to your nose?”
“A little scar from an accident…”
“Is that accident involve someone with a heavy arm…” I used his words and his trademark grin.
“It’s serious. Get out of here….” He insisted.
“What is going on?”
“Seems like I have got a choice…”
“Don’t kid around. They will be coming any minute.”
“It is a good start. Will ‘they’ tell me anything ?”
It pissed him off and fell while trying to push me… A white paper with a name ‘Gohjer Thompson’ slipped from his pockets.
He took his paper from my hands and began to leave,
“So, what’s my grandfather is doing in your pockets, huh?”
His eyes lit with a spark of fear and with a certain knowledge,
“What? You’re no Thompson…”
“But my grandfather is. Well, my father has chosen a different surname yet…”
“Then you’ve just walked into a real trouble, boy.” said a voice over my shoulder.
Thank you for reading…