ON SECOND THOUGHTS
By Neel Anil Panicker
It wasn’t the Eiffel Tower, but, it still leaned heavily on me.
Or, at least that’s what I thought.
“Does anyone really climb up there and watch the sea all day long”? was what I had once asked the saturnine faced Thomas Sacharia, infamous in the school as ‘Scary’__an ugly mutation of his surname.
I was one of the very few that he’d taken a shine to, not least because I was his sole supplier of Cuban cigars, that which an old distant Uncle (pretty unsure which side of the family divide he hailed from, though) passed onto to me at decent intervals.
“Smoke, sleep over it, or simply sell at whatever rate you please but simply make sure I get ten bucks on each stick.”
I knew then that these couldn’t ever come from the land of Castro.
Nevertheless, a struck a deal and, some sort of a friendship with Scary.
Now, with the waves lashing forth their foam filled froth and the waters turning pitch dark, I remembered his words as I looked upto the tower, “Remember, not even a wave can flip without those guards noticing it.”
I decided I needed another place to dump the body.
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