Walking through the empty streets, Marcy had an eerie feeling of being watched. No one had returned to this part of the city since the shooting, there hadn’t even been any rain, so the outlines of bodies were still visible on the pavement. Marcy had lost count many streets ago.
The assignment is not clearly defined, he is not comfortable with local culture and his set of competencies cannot be put to use here. Vaguely, he thought of the celebrity singer who sat near Haji Ali, singing on a harmonium, and had collected twelve bucks for his talent. He used it to highlight the importance of the paraphernalia and supporting set-up which make one a star.
The sight of this box in the middle of the forest made him aware, that his journey to irrelevance is now complete.
How will he make a clean exit?
Will he make an exit at all? Who was he to think that something in…