TE16 Turkish Delight

Needlefish he halted. Listened. To the number 44 driving past him, the ‘71 Pontiac Grand LeMans chewing up the road right behind him and the determined footsteps underneath it all. Footsteps make a sound, but it isn’t well acquainted with German. The owner of the voice was his pursuer, the gray eyed, shadow-tall man. That’s how it began. It all began with those three words. Got a cigarette? He could have said no. Maybe he shouldn’t have replied at all. He should have paid closer attention to the words those thick lips were emitting. Needlefish didn’t really ask Koma for a cigarette that day. Maybe what he really asked was, got a life? And he had replied, yes. I’ve got a life I can give you. He was about to bring out a lighter following the cigarette when he noticed that Needlefish already had one. It was shaped like a penis. A plastic lighter that turned red at the rip when it was lit. A sex shop giveaway. He didn’t say thanks. Koma didn’t have time to listen to genial talk anyway. Yes, of course he was curious about the mind behind the pair of gray eyes that had watched him from the mirror at the JAB, but he had a mother, cancer-free though she was, and a house that he lived in. Koma called it home. He spun around and resumed walking. The shadow was right in step with him. He noticed then that they both had the same bag. Rossignol tennis bags in turquoise. They took three strides and Koma stopped. So did Needlefish. Koma was indignant that in a city like Berlin, the man couldn’t find somewhere else to walk other than right next to him. - Got a cigarette?

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