Word spreads among the residents of an old degraded town. They whispered restlessly from ear to ear, and if they hear any sound -- they would quickly scatter and grab any belongings left. A man around his twenties wore an old plane cap, strolling at the decayed streets. He brought nothing with him but a phone. He looked around then began dialing a call. A ringtone played from behind. He turned towards the fallen building in front of him, the sun covered the air howled. "Answer your phone" in an assertive tone, he called out to the person clearly hiding behind a pillar. The phone beeped in call. "You taking the job or not?" pressed against his right. The man seethed lowered his phone. "Wait - wait.." the person's fingers creased the front of the pillar, and reluctantly showed his face, a red head. He never looked at him though, as if he wanted to hide like the rest of the residents. The man then looked down, his cap downcasted then began to walk, the person took initiative and followed. The people watched them from the sidelines as they arrived at a car parked at the end of the town where a vast golden brown field almost consumed the road. The red head went in the car, his clothes were worn out and stained, leaning by the window still never looking at the man wearing that hat. He watched him from the front mirror. It was a quiet drive, the atmosphere was heavy. They passed through countles counties and time to time stop at some convient shop. He gave him a cold can drink, almost pressing it on his face. The red head simply accepted the drink, not looking like drinking it. The ride went on till daybreak, the red head was already drosy still holding the drink unopned. He noticed the car finally stop. Is this it? He thought.
A condo unit, he stepped out of the car while the other guy shut the car door and locked it. The light post was harassed with insects. He eyes at the red head, while the red head was quick to avert his gaze. The condo seems to be full of retired people in their sixties to eighties, knitting at their balcony or listening to 190's radio. They both took a narrow flight of stairs the wall's green paint scraping off. Where he unlocks a room from the far hallway. Room 404. A plant pot dead from the entrance. "Come in" he gestured to the red head, while meekly he enters the room. He consciously walked in the middle of the room, couches and tables coated with slight dust and cobwebs around vintage lamps. "Go take a wash, I'll clean up the place" he spoke to the red head, "It's over there at the corner right " pointing at the location, he watches the red head. Inspecting his features. Hi was thin, so thin he smells of dried arousal and sweat. He just wore a large baggy shirt without ... pants. The red head went towards the shower room. It can be heard the shower turning on. Knowing this, he simply continued to tidy the place and washed his face by the sink. Staring at himself soaked and proceded. The red head took longer at the bath, it started to bother him the shower is still going on. He walked in the bath bringing an old towel. The red head didn't seem to notice while he leaned himself on the wall to clean his lower parts. The man wearing a hat stared, he could see the red head fingered his arse up front and saw lumps of white liquid drolling out his thighs. He stepped forward and the red head flinge a bit. Still not facing the man, he took his fingers out and retracted his hands and just stood there bare naked water tricking from his fresh boney back. He throwed the towel and borrowed clothes on the counter top of the bathroom, he then went out. Closing the door behind him. And decided to change himself at the other room. The read head just finished and held the given clothes. It was fancy, a puffy white long sleeves and sleek dark buttoned pants. Even the undergarment was soft and woven strong.
He clumsily put the brief on, his slender arms assisted his boney legs to pull the pants up. And buttoned his long sleeves. The moment he was almost done, he glanced at his reflection. Then sooner saw himself in wears he wouldn't dream of having. He looked directly at his own image feeling more worst. His making a face only to be described to be numb or drugged. Dark circles bellow his eyes and cheeks swollen pale. He felt the cold floor, and steril smell of the bathroom. He's put off from his image leaving the bathroom. Then for the first time, accidentally stared face to face at the man wearing the hat. He directly looked away, and held his hand together. The man gaped at the red head in the clothes he let him wore. His first to see the man smile, not just a smile but at him. "You fit the bill. Not exactly yet, but.." the man stood and placed a hand on his own chest. "You got to look at me", the red head's heart fell in a pit. He was hesitant, and he even never planned to look at him directly in any way. He stood there waiting his patience lossing it's kindness "Sighh, you just have to" he grabbed the face, the read head struggled but he pulled his face roughly upwards. Gripped his cheeks, the red head looked at the lines of terrified and shock. The man stared down to see any glimpse. Any glimpse, the man's face wrinkled. "You don't have it. You look pathetic" he pushed letting go. He pressed his temple and hunched. The red head panicked, he worries that he'll be thrown out of this. His hands moisten, but clenched it to fists and wiped it at on his side.
"I'll have it!" his voice cracked. He cleared his throat and tried to speak up "Tell me what to do... I'll try - I'll try.. I don't know what will happen if I don't get this anymore" he was caught again. His and the man's stare, now the man looked indifferent but the pressure of the room was slightly lifted. "You're overwhelmed" he tilted his head a bit backwards "But you aren't bawling. Your eyes are still crystal clear its not getting red anytime soon". He walked off the spot and went at the drawer pulling a thin document. "Your life could be summarised in just two pages" he chuckled himself. "Born in a stable family. But complications happen. Father missing mother left. And your brother" The red head at hinge, glaring at how nonchalantly he just flips the paper and talk as if he knew everything. But it hit a nerve. "You brother. How is he?" the man looked straight at him. The red head tensed. "Is the money for him?" he would've have talked back, but it seems something was stuck in his throat. "If you here for that. Then I don't want you", the red head even more confused. "This thing I'm about to give you. Is not for your brother or for family" in a stern demand, "This. Is. for me. Do this for me." the red head almost blacked out, he didn't know how to respond to this. "By the time I decided to pick you up from there. You are no longer be Luke. But something that only thinks and works for me" he then stood up with the documents pushed on the red head's face. He was utterly confused, but sparked. He felt offended. Not realising he glared at the man, and the man simply felt sublime. "There it is...". The red head never heared that name for a long time. Luke was his name, yet it doesn't feel like it is. He took the papers off his face and saw the documents. He doesn't know how to feel about this, all information about him. From his blood type, birthdate to things he doesn't even know. At least his body clutching the paper tensely meant he should be feeling disgusted or mad. But what bothers him is that the man that brought him here is asking something mentally harder for him to do. 'Do it for him? Force him to dedicate himself to someone he just doesn't find..' Luke thought, the red head. They settled in the small condo unit. The man with the hat brought the ingredients and cooked at the kitchen. Luke sat by the couch being out of place and home sick. He gripped his knees putting pressure. Thought by now he would be numb to do anything, but now his brains kicking in. He wanted to go back for some reason, for some pathetic reasons after what happened there. He should never think of going back. What happened there should've not taken place horribly. His neck getting itchy from the colar while plates and pot clanked at the dining table. The man prepped then sat by the table and ignored Luke approaching. He blew the hot food on his spoon where he brought it to his mouth, while Luke stood there anticipating every gulped and chewing the man took. Luke was hungry. Never has he seen a proper meal since ever. The man continued to eat, now Luke became desperate. He could see the food running out every spoonful the man took. Looking at the man now, he couldn't get angry but strangely. He felt he wanted to beg for it. And he knows the man would give it. Every second he hesitated, food became scarcely from the pot. He shuts his lungs and spoke "...". The man finished his meal, placing the stained plates at the sink. Luke sat at the back hunched. Regretting of holding his bit of dignity. "Wash the plates and sleep wherever" the man left to his room shutting off most of the lights. While Luke was there unmoving with the dim room for hours. However, out of nowhere he slowly raised up, and went to the kitchen. He grabbed the plates and pots carefully not making any noise, he checked his surroundings if it's safe. Then, a glinting tear dribbled cutting his cheek. Opening his mouth wide sticking out his dry tongue pressing his lips on the tasty ceramic. His stomach burns, and roared for the taste of food left from the dirty dishes. From plates to pots he huddled down at the floor. Wishing he was numb all the time. Stars were unforgiving as they left Luke at that morning. The plates already smelled like lemon soup, and still drying at the rack. Radio stations and chattering of old people can be heard from outside the room.