Short Sunday - The Car

"Baby you know I don't have the money at the moment. I'm not self-employed, give me some months to save and I'll get you the car you desire," John pleaded.

"But honey, you know how hard it is taking public transport to work everyday. Most of my colleagues have cars, and the ones who don't have, their boyfriends come to pick them up from work," Linda complained; her chest pressed against his as she looked up at her handsome man.

John released a sigh of frustration. "All right, I'll see if I can get a loan from my bank. No promises though, because I can't guarantee they'll approve my application when I apply," he said.

"Oh thank you very much." She reached for his lips and massaged it with hers. She seemed relieved after the conversation even though John didn't promise anything.

A few days later, John returned from work and found Linda in the living room. Her eyes were filled with tears as she used cotton balls and spirit to mop the injury on her leg. "Oh my God," yelled John. "Baby, what happened to you?"

"I was crossing the road to get to the bus stop and all of a sudden a power bike rode from nowhere and kicked me out of the road. I fell on my sides and suffered a few cuts around my body."

"Oh no, I'm really sorry," John said.

"It's okay baby. Only if you got me a car to take to work, I wouldn't be experiencing such pain," Linda said. She sounded as though she was trying her best not to cry. John felt horribly sad. He had done this to her. Maybe he wasn't trying his best. He needed to try harder. That night, he kept surfing the internet looking for ideas to raise money, but he couldn't find any reliable and sensible thing to do that would make him quick money. This mere fact added to his depression. Only if he had a car to himself, he wouldn't mind giving it to her and travel to work in public transport. But he didn't. His colleague, Fred, lived in the same estate and always drove him to work and back home.

The following morning, whilst he was going to work he remembered Fred had over three cars and he was his junior at work. He decided to find out how Fred raised money to buy those cars. "Are you sure you want to know?" Fred asked.

"It depends. I hope it doesn't involve selling your soul to the Devil?" John asked.

Fred chuckled. "No, it doesn't. It just involves delivering a parcel to a client. If you make three deliveries, you'll be up by 50,000 US Dollars."

John's eyes widened. For a second there he thought he just heard '50,000'. Maybe it was a slip of tongue. He needed to be sure. "Come again, did you say 50,000?" he asked.

Fred nodded. "Yeah. 50,000 US Dollars. All yours."

John shuddered. "You must be kidding." Just then he recalled the description of the job and paused. "Wait, what's in the parcel?"

"That's really none of your business. I don't even know either. I just tend to deliver and collect my pay."

A month later, John stood at the corner of an empty street, holding a huge pack of envelope in his hand. It was dark, so dark, he couldn't even see inches away from him. This was his second delivery. He wasn't paid for the first one, because the organisers used it as a means to gain their trust. Now, he had successfully transported it to the given location and was waiting for the receiver to show up. All of a sudden, he heard footsteps walking towards him. He could hardly see their features as they wore all black clothes. But he could see their eyes, they stared daggers at him. He grew worried. As they inched closer, one of the men shouted, "Hey, what are you doing there?"

In an attempt for John to bring out a black baton from his back pocket, in pretence to be an officer, one of the men brought out his gun and fired at John. The bullet pierced his heart as he collapsed on the ground. The men heard the dropping sound of the baton and rushed to meet him, thinking he was a police officer. John was quivering on the cemented ground; his eyes fixed at the dark clouds. He reached for his wallet and gave it to the man, who was kneeling beside him. "Please call the last dialled number," he said, as blood trickled down his lips. "And tell her I'll always love her." With those last words, he stopped shaking and lay still on the ground. His heart stopped beating and his eyes were immobile.

Instantly, the man called the instructed number and asked her to rush to the scene. By the time she arrived, John's cold body lay on the ground without any sign of the huge envelope. Linda screamed, as she knelt down on the hard concrete beside her soul mate, tears dripping down her cheeks. Suddenly, she heard a certain vibration from nearby and found it to be John's phone, tucked in his pocket. She picked it up and noticed it was a message from his bank. It read: 'Your loan has been approved. Please stop by your branch and sign the necessary documents."