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Old Friends: A Short Story By Majic
page: 12
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The man in the suit walked into the dimly-lit room and surveyed it curtly with his sunglass-cloaked eyes, flanked by two other men in suits wearing
sunglasses and earpieces.
The man in the robes, himself flanked by sharp-eyed men wearing loose-fitting clothes and AK-74U carbines, rose and gave the visitor a warm, heartfelt embrace. “It has been too long.”
He motioned toward a thick cushion on the floor, and each of the two men dismissed his retinue with a subtle hand signal before sitting.
A brief silence fell over the room after the door closed with a firm thud.
The man in the robes leaned forward with a thin smile. “The room is secure.”
The man in the suit removed his sunglasses and tucked them into a pocket with an amused grin. “I know.”
The man in the robes gestured toward a large silver tray of pots and cups on a short table nearby. “Coffee?”
The man in the suit nodded and waited silently as he was served.
The two men drank quietly, pensively, each savoring the aroma and taste of the strong, flavorful brew.
Finally, the man in the suit spoke. “We need your help again.”
The man in the robes sighed softly. “I know.”
The man in the suit frowned apologetically. “We tried, you know. We didn't want it to come to this.”
The man in the robes shifted uncomfortably. “I know. I also tried, but some things are beyond the powers of any man.”
The man in the suit grimaced sympathetically. “Tell me about it.” He glanced at the door. “So, do you think you can go through with it?”
The man in the robes smiled enigmatically. “Is there any choice? We will do what must be done.”
The man in the suit nodded somberly. “I know. You have never let us down.”
The man in the robe's eyes narrowed. “I have never let my people down. Never forget why I do this.”
The man in the suit smirked ironically. “It's the same reason we all do this: for our people.”
A tense silence fell over the room before the two men stood up and embraced.
The man in the suit spoke softly, his voice almost a whisper. “We will not meet again.”
The man in the robes nodded with resignation. “I know. Peace be upon you, my friend.”
The man in the suit smiled thinly. “And upon you be peace. Somebody cares, son of the slave.”
He winked at the other's pained grimace, then turned and stepped crisply toward the door.
Before opening it, he paused before putting on his sunglasses and turned his head one last time toward the man in the robes. His eyes sagged and revealed his profound fatigue as he muttered under his breath.
“May God help us all, Osama.”
The man in the robes, himself flanked by sharp-eyed men wearing loose-fitting clothes and AK-74U carbines, rose and gave the visitor a warm, heartfelt embrace. “It has been too long.”
He motioned toward a thick cushion on the floor, and each of the two men dismissed his retinue with a subtle hand signal before sitting.
A brief silence fell over the room after the door closed with a firm thud.
The man in the robes leaned forward with a thin smile. “The room is secure.”
The man in the suit removed his sunglasses and tucked them into a pocket with an amused grin. “I know.”
The man in the robes gestured toward a large silver tray of pots and cups on a short table nearby. “Coffee?”
The man in the suit nodded and waited silently as he was served.
The two men drank quietly, pensively, each savoring the aroma and taste of the strong, flavorful brew.
Finally, the man in the suit spoke. “We need your help again.”
The man in the robes sighed softly. “I know.”
The man in the suit frowned apologetically. “We tried, you know. We didn't want it to come to this.”
The man in the robes shifted uncomfortably. “I know. I also tried, but some things are beyond the powers of any man.”
The man in the suit grimaced sympathetically. “Tell me about it.” He glanced at the door. “So, do you think you can go through with it?”
The man in the robes smiled enigmatically. “Is there any choice? We will do what must be done.”
The man in the suit nodded somberly. “I know. You have never let us down.”
The man in the robe's eyes narrowed. “I have never let my people down. Never forget why I do this.”
The man in the suit smirked ironically. “It's the same reason we all do this: for our people.”
A tense silence fell over the room before the two men stood up and embraced.
The man in the suit spoke softly, his voice almost a whisper. “We will not meet again.”
The man in the robes nodded with resignation. “I know. Peace be upon you, my friend.”
The man in the suit smiled thinly. “And upon you be peace. Somebody cares, son of the slave.”
He winked at the other's pained grimace, then turned and stepped crisply toward the door.
Before opening it, he paused before putting on his sunglasses and turned his head one last time toward the man in the robes. His eyes sagged and revealed his profound fatigue as he muttered under his breath.
“May God help us all, Osama.”
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