Thirty-One - Vanadine

Returning to Tommy’s house with the supplies the bomb maker had asked for, Vanadine found the wreck of a man mixing something that looked a lot like wet rice in a bucket. The stench of petrol filled the room and Vanadine’s nose wrinkled at the smell.

“Ah, excellent,” Tommy said as he looked at the items Vanadine had brought. “You got the cash too?”

Vanadine threw a wad of notes on the bench beside Tommy, held in a roll with a rubber band and handed him the bags he had brought back.

“What do you need all this for?” Vanadine asked as Tommy opened the pair of mobile phones Vanadine had bought.

Tommy stared at him as if he was an infant, his eyes larger than they should be through the glasses he wore.

“Your bomb?” He asked as if this should be obvious. “Ooh, coffee!”

Vanadine handed him the cup and sipped at his own, feeling the hot liquid flow down into his stomach,

Last time I had coffee I was with her. He thought as anguish grabbed his chest. Anger fought with sadness as thoughts of Ca