162 The Man Who Stabbed Him

The walls looked at him with unseen eyes judging. Half dark because he was afraid to turn on the light. The light would show him and the walls his trembling hands covered in damp sweat.

He should get away from here, he knew. He should pack his things, buy a ticket for the nearest plane and get out of this city. Out of this country. Damn. He should disappear, but...

He glanced at the Ole's bed standing in exactly the same place as always. Cold. Empty. Foreign. Ole almost never left his room staring at the phone as if conjuring for it to ring. Yet this apartment was always full of his presence. Without him, it was a void.

Rashid should get up from under the wall. Pack up, run away, but that would mean he would leave this place that was full of memories of Ole....

Why did he do that? Why did he start waiting outside the company? Why did he watch the crowd as if hoping to meet the one man he hated with all the strength of his heart. The man who destroyed Ole.