Tale of one evening

I see the gun in the glove compartment, as he grabs a new pack of cigarettes. I am not scared. I know, as long as everything is cool, nothing will happen to me. If not, well, that’s a whole different scenario anyway. But I’m not afraid of dying. Just of suffering. But a clean, painfree and quick death? Sure, it would suck, but there’s worse.

We don’t talk. There’s no need to pretend. We have a common goal, we’re no friends. We do business, that’s all. I think he is russian, but I don’t know why I think that. Did my friend mention it, when he said he knew someone he could call and then set up the meeting and pick up point? Don’t know. Doesn’t matter. I know he said his name, when I got in his big, clean car, but I already forgot it.

I never met him before and probably will never meet him ever again. We will spend an hour in a car together, driving silently through the night. Till we arrive somewhere. Then he will vanish, I will wait and then we drive another hour and our ways will part again. That’s all. Sitting in this car, driving without knowing the exact destination, with no need to talk or pretend, I feel a strange kind of peace and freedom. Yes, tomorrow will shine it’s light on everything. That’s the way of tomorrows. But tomorrow is tomorrow, it will come soon enough.

Now is now. And right now I am alive, 100%. And I go hard. I have no regrets or remorse. I don’t look back. There is a merciless, laserlike beauty in this. It sets me free. At least for this one night, I am free and painless. That’s all anyone can ask for. Who knows, what life will be like tomorrow.

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