No one understood- they never will. They all grew up with a silver spoon in their mouths, never having to worry about food, living with the next day guaranteed. Basil didn’t know these luxuries and he cursed anyone who did. If it wasn’t for Masih he’d still be living that life on the streets. He kind of owed the guy something.
“You want help with a case?”
Masih offered basil a cigarette and a lighter. “A homicide. Might turn into a serial killer case. I’ll need someone I can trust.”
Taking the cigarette with skepticism, Basil lit it and took a drag. “Sounds like you’re scared of this.”
“Nah. I just don’t know what I’m dealing with.” Masih looked down the street thoughtfully. “It doesn’t feel normal. The evidence..the execution. It’s almost as if.....”
“What?”
“-as if it’s inhuman.”