The coffee’s hot. Too bitter. Could just be that I’ve had too much and my taste buds can’t take it anymore. I’m on my seventh cup, reading snippets of a paper I’ve already read twice.
Henderson hasn’t moved in two hours. He’s tapping frantically on his phone, a pair of Beats headphones around his neck. He’s looking great. Healthy. A tight t-shirt strained over his muscles, the tattooed arms. Henderson’s been working out since I last saw him, but so have I. He’s oblivious to my presence. I doubt he’d recognise me if I walked right up to him. Two years is a long time. I was skinnier then and had a mop of curly, dark hair.
I didn’t think the kid had it in him, but he’s good, keeping his cool. I had my doubts at first. All the shit he’s been through. Most break, few come out of it stronger. I was convinced he’d change his mind. But I was wrong.
As soon as I put the guy in front of him I know. I can see it in his eyes. He wants to do it. Kill the motherfucker and get on with his life. Whatever is left of it.
The kid’s small for his age. At nineteen he’s just five foot six. Reminds me of my Adam. Maybe that’s why I want to protect him. I don’t want him to end up like me. I don’t want him to get a taste for it. I turn away, think about how I ended up here. I wasn’t much different, just some kid getting even.
The guy screams and the kid says, “That’s for mom.”
