Two gunshots and a shout. Yet I was not dead, not yet.
my heart threatened to leap out of my chest.
I glanced up at the thug and found him looking at me too. i had no energy left to carry out any of my planned ways of dodging and escaping from the thug's wrath.
the thug lifted his gaze off me and glared at the three men at the corner who were visibly shaking.
"Plotting against me is not prohibited," the thug hollered and went to sit on the chair previously occupied by the dark suit man. the latter was the one who shouted upon witnessing the execution of the bearded kid. at the same he bolted up. that yielded him a death penalty.
the world is full of possibilities most of which are unforeseeable. that is why i expect anything.
while I'm not immune to astonishment, the bearded kid's death didn't astonish me at all. he broke the rules. i had come to understand that the thug was an extremely strict law enforcer. on the other hand i knew i didn't break any rule. that was why I didn't rash to get up and try to run away or possibly attack the thug.
nonetheless, I reckoned that the odds of him deciding to kill me for treason were dangerously high.
the waitress brought two plates of potato salad and a bottle of mustard. i doubted i would find strength and appetite to eat, even a tiniest chunk. what had occurred left me badly traumatized and shaken.
it was the worst near-death experience i had ever encountered so far.
by sluggishly wriggling my shoulder i initiated the process of taking off my trench coat which was something i rarely do even in hot weather. at the moment i felt scorching hot like i was buried in a furnace but i shivered like i was buried in ice.
"Has the temperature changed?" Mah asked.
I recalled he had asked someone similar question.
I slowly looked at him and in soft voice, i said; "No, the heat is being released from within my body."
"great," he said, "do you want your body to keep producing the heat?"
I weakly shook my head and I guessed what he'd say.
"Guide it to cease then,"
I reversed the few steps I took to take off the coat, crossed my arms on my chest and closed my eyes. With deep concentration, I imagined freezing cold water being poured over my head, the water cascaded down all over my body.
then, I imagined the dining room snowing. I stayed in that imagination for a long time that i lost track of it. at last i felt that I was shivering of cold. For real. I opened my eyes and found it was cold. For real. Incredibly cold than ever had been since i arrived hours ago.
on the clock, the hour hand pointed at five while the minute hand pointed at a little past four making it 5:21 in the evening.
I could hardly believe five hours had passed already. my schedule had been totally jeopardized.
I forced myself to eat and it worked. every diner dined in silence. while there was no rule forcing us to keep talking there was one that demanded us to continue our businesses. the main and undeniable business in a restaurant was dining.
the priest had spent the past hour drinking, starting with mineral water and was drinking coke at the moment. his companion replaced by the thug himself. the priest had been shivering since the death of his companion—the dark suit man.
the pretty nurse ate hot soup. her make up smudged by dry tears. although no fresh tears came out, her facial expression, exposed that she was still crying. i supposed her tear duct had run dry.
I emptied my plate. it occurred to me that it took me more than forty minutes. It no longer could be considered a lunch but dinner.
"I remember you now, you did a song in Arabic,"
I turned my head around and looked at the hijab woman.
"Yes," I forced out a smile, "actually, it is multilingual. English, Chichewa, Mandarin and Arabic."
"Interesting," she muttered, "I like your music."
"I appreciate it. The existence of people like you is what keeps me making music."
the hijab woman smiled tenderly and looked at me weakly.
Oh my God, I liked it. Even my body reacted.
"I like you," she said, i think she spoke in a seductive way.
An incredibly pleasant wave washed over me. i could hardly believe it. i held my breath, my mouth open.
"Crap!" the priest hissed, "Just because he's famous you fall him?"
The hijab woman's face revealed the statement; "I don't give a damn about what you say, Father."
"That is impulsive of you, young woman," the priest added and turned to me, "these musicians of today are a pack of stray kids. brats. their music is crap and useless!"
anger surged through my heart.
"Now that is ignorant and naive of you, Father. you judge my music without having a taste of it. such prejudice, unfairness and ignorance does not suit you as a religious leader," i hollered at him.
his expression changed drastically. his face turned extremely bitter.
"Watch your language little kid!" he barked a stern warning which failed to intimidate me.
"Why didn't you watch yours when you talked to me? you called me a stray kid. a brat. you called my music crap and useless. do you take me for a statue that does not get hurt?" my words clearly caused excruciating pain in his heart. his face trembled with fury.
"Respect!"
I subconsciously turned to the speaker—the elegant lady.
That single word she let out of her mouth struck the worst part of my heart.