Chapter 65
The car's engine purred to a stop, humming into the dark evening of the neighbourhood. A single streetlight stood at a corner, its beam slicing through the mist and leaving the other side swallowed in deeper shades of night. The only real light came from the amber bulbs glowing from nearby flats and kiosks, spilling warmth into the damp air.
This side of town still buzzed with life. People stood in front of kiosks, some buying one thing or the other, others just lounging and letting the cold evening air wash over them. The street had its own rhythm — laughter, chatter, the hiss of frying oil, and the sharp yells of men arguing over football scores somewhere down the lane. Cars crawled past, their horns echoing between buildings, while the drizzle deepened the air's metallic scent.
Then the car — sleek, black, too expensive for this street — drew eyes. People turned, staring. No one stepped out yet, and that made the gossip simmer even hotter.
