Steemit Challenge s26wk2- Mysterious Roommate

Timothy had considered himself a good judge of character. That notion was pulverized when Ronnie moved in.

Ronnie was cool and persuasive. According to him, he was lured to the city by hopes of establishing an export-import company. He explained that he only needed a roommate to be able to save some money to start him up. Timothy had believed him. It was in line with the image of a young entrepreneur, the clothes Ronnie wore, and the tone of his voice.

Even Timothy became helpful to him with contacts, short cuts and city secrets.

But the lies are usually well dressed up.

And it chanced one humid evening, when Timothy came home in time to see the truth put out of the bag. Ronnie crouched on the floor, and was dragging a bag out from under the bed. At first he did not observe Timothy. Definitely not business papers or trade samples strewn at his feet but steel hand tools, iron cutters, saws, drills, bunches of keys. There was a sharp ray of light on an enlarging glass. The little black gun then.

Timothy constricted. Ronnie? he said, with the attempt to sound casual, his voice breaking.

Ronnie lifted his head. His countenance was neither surprised, nor ashamed. He just closed the bag, zipped it up and told me, Every man needs his tools. His voice was very much nonchalant it sounded practiced.

Timothy did not have a peaceable state of mind. What business man would want to have a burglary? Why should he want the gun? He smirked apprehensively, but what was in the depths of him was heavy and stuck in the middle of his chest, A suspicion.

Since then an atmosphere developed between them. Ronnie talked less and his silences spoke louder. Timothy began to see the things which he had not seen before, the fact that Ronnie had late-night departures often, the fact that he was never clean, but had dust on his shoes, he would check and check and recheck the locks and then he will go to bed.

One night one of Timothy dared to ask the tension was broken. So what now is in that bag Ronnie?

Ronnie is sitting in front of the window, smoking in half-darkness. He tilted his head slowly and the flick of the cigarette burst onto his face like a red eye. He smoked and said in a voice that almost came out too soft, You don?¿ makes no man tell you what he carries. Why does he carry it, you ask.

Timothy was contracted across the chest. Then, why, tell me why?

That is why Ronnie smiled with his lips only without the eyes. Since not all doors open in a pleasant manner. Not all the enemies are fair fighters. And some life is too deadly to expound.”

It was no answer. It was an admonishment.

That night Timothy could hardly sleep. His room-mate was not a business man. he was darker, thief, spy, agent, or criminal. The edges got a little bit blurred, and the threat was evident.

A week afterwards Timothy followed him. At midnight Ronnie walked out of the house with the black bag. They followed into dark streets until Timothy came to an old abandoned warehouse on the edge of the port. Peeking through an opening in the wall, Timothy was able to look out and see Ronnie seated at a table with three strangers. They scattered guns, maps, stacks of cash and coded papers. Timothy could only overhear snatches of dialogue, they seemed to be talking about a shipment and the embassy and passwords and tomorrow night.

His gut fell. This was no common offence. Whatever Ronnie was up to was larger than Timothy ever thought of it.

His head was in a whirl and he ran home in a cold sweat. Is he to call the police? suppose Ronnie had them in his pocket? Is he to challenge him? It might be death. Worst of all was the nibbling terror, what in case Ronnie had been aware of his following him?

The morning after Ronnie continued to treat him in a normal manner. Ironing away at his shirt, with his ear to the wall humming an old tune, he said, looking up, to Tim, You look as if you had seen a ghost, Tim.

Timothy grimaced at an expression of forced amiability. Said couldn t sleep.

Ronnie looked back too long, as it were stripping off the lie. Then he laughed a bit and put his hand on Timothy. “Relax. And you will soon know what it is all about.”

The words were to show reassurance but to Timothy, they sounded like a threat.

At that point all he could be certain of was that he had to get out. gradually he loaded his baggage. Each motion was a felony, each clip of a bag an alarm. Day in and day out he acted as though everything was all right until one quiet Sunday morning he just went.

He left no note. He never picked up the phone of an unfamiliar number. Transferring to another part of the city, he lost all links with those people who could bring Ronnie to him.

But one night and in the middle of the night, Timothy would awaken, drenched with sweat, feeling sure he heard steps outside his new door, feeling sure that Ronnie had been found again. Ronnie was not just a roommate, he was a shadow. Nor do Shadows come to easy death.

I invite @josepha, @stef1 and @mikitaly to drop a very constructive comments on this post and also to participate in this contest.

❤️I hope you enjoyed very much by reading my post. Thank you so much for reading till the end❤️

Best Regards By
@adese

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