Torn Apart

Bismillah

The second time they met was at El Compadre, a bit further down Figueroa. That was at dusk. They only ordered drinks and didn’t stay long. He remembers thinking to maybe bring Kimberly there. She enjoyed Mexican cuisine. Her father was Mexican. Guess she was too, in ways. He would definitely be up for a flaming margarita, perhaps not. Kimberly didn’t drink.

Ben smiles and nods. That was definitely a strange meeting. He remembers feeling cold.

He scans his notes again.

The third time they met was at Pico station, Flower Street. That was at night. They walked south, turned right and headed west on Pico Boulevard. They continued past the Compass Café and departed at the drinking fountain near LA Galaxy. The Demolition man didn’t say much. Only confirmed Ben’s suspicions and gave him some advice.

He scans the map again, then his notes.

Last time they met, was outside The Mayan. That was also at night. For some strange reason, that night, he got the feeling that the Demolition man trusted him; or more than before. That was the night he gave Ben the strange note, then disappeared amongst the clubbers.

Ben never saw him again.

As Allah wills.