fragments, Non classé, prose, writing

Negatives (#3)

Jason stepped into the café and spotted me right away.
The Head Cat were blasting through and though the sound was bad, it made you feel warm inside, it was like listening to the radio, like the old days. He sat down to the table, smiled at me and grabbed the menu.
“Have you ordered yet?”
“Black coffee an’eggs?”
“I think I’m gonna go with some bacon today. Your treat?”
Jason is one of those people who never ever change. I have known him for most of my life, and aside from a noticeable abundance of facial hair and a deeper voice, he is still the same damn boy he has always been.
“So … What can I do?”
“I need you to look into a particular company.”
“A company? You wanna buy shares?”
I scribbled the name down on a paper napkin, forwarded to him.
“Discreetly, obviously.”
“Got it, big case.”
“Mmh mmh”
“Any updates on…”
Before he could finish his sentence, the waiter was back again. He took Jason’s order, did not smile, did not try to joke or even talk. It felt like he was holding his breath all along.
“Any updates on Wilson’s whereabouts?” Jason finished once the waiter was gone.
“No. I’m not looking for him. He was pretty clear about that. He wanted out, he’s out.”
“Doesn’t that intrigue you though? I mean, you worked for the guy for what? The better part of four years? He gets a phone call, gets depressed and vanishes less than a week after that without any explanation. That’s as strange as you can get.”
“Five years. Yes. I guess everyone has their secrets. Besides, he left me with so many cases, I can’t think about this now, I barely have time to sleep…”
“Interesting to hear when you’re sitting here waiting for a cup of coffee and some food.” He smiled broadly, proud of himself.
“How fast can you work this out?”
“I’ll get on it right away don’t worry.”
Our order came, first my coffee, and then our eggs and his bacon. Everything seemed to make sense, the eggs the pepper and the bread. But once again I felt my mind drifting away – some sort of out of body experience. And even that would be to reductive to describe what it was really. There is a sense in this world, I knew that for sure. I knew that for a long time, and suddenly, as soon as a bike roaring away in the sunset, it all broke down. There was a missing piece, something that I was desperately trying to find; I had no clue. How ironic.
“Are you in trouble?” he asked.
“Those are damn good eggs.”





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