Evidence

 

Jeanine was the first. She checked me out of my hotel that Thursday morning. Come to think of it, she was really nice – a shame. I guess I was a bit too disgruntled with being called off assignment to notice any kind treatment that night. It was close to 3 AM when I checked out (a highly irregular time) – I suppose I was one of the last people she talked to. If only I had provided a more pleasant conversation. On Friday morning, I found this article in a copy of The Daily Memory lying dormant in the lobby of my temporary cheap motel. Needless to say I was somewhat shaken given the circumstances. Unintentionally, I wasn’t very talkative for a while.

Raymond was third. I didn’t bother contacting him for a few days – our last conversation on Wednesday night wasn’t the nicest of exchanges. Missing a meeting with a potential client when you’re deathly ill shouldn’t be an offense punishable by death. Raymond reckoned it was, especially when it came to public relations. Needless to say he wasn’t very happy with me. He finally messaged me on Friday morning while I was heading back on the train, appologising for our tiff. As nice as he was, the incident was a perfect example of his ‘inner prick’ which rarely saw the light of day. I guess I was still edgy and a still a bit awkward given the events of the past few days. My reply to him was simple:

Drop dead you asshole

I decided to take a few days to myself and headed to dad’s for a bit of solitude. His three month escapade to the Balkans would finally reap its benefits. I was shocked to find Raymond’s obituary in Monday’s paper. A heart attack during another long night at the office. Fate has a strange sense of humour.

The second was one I didn’t find out about until much later. The day after I left my motel, the owner was shot dead by a group of drug dealers who were demanding a room. I don’t have a newspaper clipping to prove it – I saw a story on the news updating the ongoing investigation.

The fourth was a dog that was following me around on my way to dad’s place, barking like there was no tomorrow. Little did he know… The little shit was ploughed over by a car moments after I told it to ‘fuck off.’ Evidently, I didn’t hold much compassion for him.

But that little annoyance was my answer, or the closest thing I had to one. He demonstrated the slowly growing fear in my mind.

Did every living thing I talked to die soon after?

It was crazy, but given what I had seen – it made sense. Whatever it was, I was in no mood to act. Given the possibility, my little R&R visit to dad’s place now became a precautionary isolation – at least until I could be sure it wasn’t something else.

The problem is: I can’t risk trying to prove this theory – especially if its true.

The scary part is: the best case scenario is that I’m crazy.

I believe that sometimes you have to look reality in the eye and deny it.

- Garrison Keillor, over-simplifier