The Main Man

Mr. Sins waited at the corner of 12th Street, as he’d been told a few hours before. The sun’s rays stung his face. He hadn’t taken a bath.

The road wasn’t a place to stand by idly. He felt naked and exposed, subject to the view of each passerby. A rusted sign proclaimed ‘No Parking’. Mr. Sins stood beside the sign, his weight leaning on the bike’s rear stand.

He’d bought the bike 34 minutes ago. He’d be returning it in 7 months. A good deal for ten thousand bucks. He’d put the bike to good use.

He’d be meeting the man for the first time. Sins had had to be patient, before the man had trusted him with his valuable time, a full 23 seconds, good enough to mention a few choice words, and fix the meeting.

Sins wasn’t convinced so, as the fruit seller stared at him suspiciously from the opposite end. He decided to dial the man, surely this place was too crowded?

The man picked up on the 7th ring.

“What?”, The man asked quietly.

“Sir, are you sure you’ve called me to the right place? No offence to your intelligence, but this street is crowded. We will be seen”

The man didn’t say anything.


He hung up.

Sins broke out a slight sweat, as soon as he heard the soft click of the man’s phone. Had he overstepped his stature? He didn’t think so, he’d merely been expressing a genuine query.

A Black Sedan quietly rolled in. Sins jumped in fright, he could have sworn the car had appeared out of thin air. It’s windows were tinted black, rendering it’s insides black and invisible, like staring at darkness itself. The windows rolled down, slowly, Sins held his breath.

Sins saw the man, eyes hidden behind dark shades and clad in an expensive suit give him a slight smirk. Sins knew the man had been watching him.

“Get the fuck in, fast” the man slammed the gear and they were off. Sins prayed his bike wouldn’t be towed.

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