There is a warm fondness that came from routines. His clandestine meetings with Sophea were perhaps infrequent (depending on his need for her services — information, that is), he nonetheless had come to enjoy them. He’d like to think that it might have been the same for her, given how long they had known each other. He’d been a useful business contact when she’d been getting herself started in this city. A relationship built on mutual benefit. He could offer her clients and money if she only gave him some information in return. And most important of all: protection. Now with her blossoming business, he can protect her and her girls, given the position that he possessed. What’s a phone call to some lowly precinct to a man like him? A small favour. Who kept count among friends? He was waiting for her in a hotel room; a glass of champagne and dinner already set on the table. There was something intimate about sharing a meal. They shared that hungry past, unbeknownst to her. He’d grown up starving, making him into a man who’d wanted to change the world. A knock on the door; he rose, opening it with a friendly smile as he gestured for her to enter. “It’s nice to see you.” He said it every time, like clockwork. Did the phrase wear thin? But in this existence, so many people faded away from his life. “I hope you’re doing well.” The door closed and they are alone.
