The fool

Yellow Pages 
He'd waited until he was back in his car to text. It was roughly 7 PM or so, the sun having gone down while he'd had a fucking gigantic wild cat on top of him or some shit.

Are you busy


Text from the blue. oh. no.

Everything ok?
Coppidy Morgan


He could tell her no, or...

Need company
Kinda spooked

He was already turning his car on.

Morgan scowled at the next four words, cursing the vagueness and yet feeling her stomach churn all the same.

Where are you?
Coppity Morgan

Spurred by an assumed urgency, Morgan grabbed her stuff and threw on a coat. She hefted a coyote tan rucksack from the small closet beside the front door, then headed for the car.

He read the message at a pause before the main road but wasn't a texter-while-driver and figured — the sooner out of here, the better. So instead he called her.

Incoming call


Morgan reached the car when her phone buzzed and chimed. Rucksack in the trunk, she answered the phone.


She slammed the trunk and rounded the driver's side. Opening the door, she slid inside and closed the door behind her.

What's happened?

The car's interior muffled the outside which carried through so clearly before.

Hey. Uh... It's... I don't really feel... okay here, talking about it. Was on my way to you.


Not wanting to talk about it on an open line… the bad feeling in her gut got worse.

Not mine. Remember the café? I'll meet you there.

Unsure what she waded into, paranoia turned to high, she opted for a neutral location. The crowd and cameras would hopefully prevent anyone from doing something stupid.

Why... why somewhere in public.

Karim felt suddenly that there was a chance that there were ears everywhere, and he didn't want to be heard. He wanted somewhere secure? Private.

Uhhh. It's. It's fine. I'm probably just freaked out.

Yeah, in fact, still freaked out, but. Outside anywhere didn't really feel like the place for this. And maybe inside anywhere didn't, either. And maybe, just...

I might... actually... just take a drive outta town for a bit. I'll let you know when I get back.

He grimaced, unsure how poorly that would be taken, but his thoughts were erratic and what he felt he needed kept escaping him.

She didn't buy it. Morgan drew the phone from her cheek to scowl at it. The conversation spiraled and she had no idea where this backtracking came from. Now Abdul wanted to take a long drive… it was the kind of thing someone said before ending up in a shallow grave.

Abdul, tell me what the fuck is going on.


He would regret this.

I'll tell you when I get back.

He already did.

He hung up, and... being a real piece of shit, put his phone on silent and tossed it in the back seat.

And then he'd just. Drive.

Abdul. Abdu—

"Don't you fucking hang up on me you motherfuck—" She seethed. God damn it. Morgan called him back and glared daggers at the phone as it went to voice mail. She called again and stabbed her finger at the screen as voice mail picked up again.

Morgan sat in her car, her pulse racing and worry squirming in her gut. Through the stone-chipped windshield she stared at her front door. Going back inside wasn't possible. She wasn't going to sit on the couch while her friend was out doing… fuck knows what.

She jerked the key and started the engine. Sat there a moment then killed it. "God fucking damnit, Abdul."

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