Topsy Turvy

2

A man in a black coat stood facing the wall, his chest tightening as he dragged on the cigarette. Smoke curled through the stagnant air, leaving a faint, bitter aftertaste.

The air conditioner rattled softly, spitting out cold air that barely dulled the oppressive heat of the room. The tubelight beside it remained off, but a sharp beam of sunlight pierced through the window above the door, casting enough light to fill the room.

Behind him, a large wooden desk, cluttered with papers, stood before two brown velvet chairs, neatly arranged for guests. The room was bare otherwise.

Outside, two guards flanked the door, their rifles pointed toward the ceiling. The door creaked open.

“Boss, Black and White are here,” a short, muscular man in a black t-shirt, a rifle slung over his shoulder, announced.

“Bring them in,” the man said, taking another deep drag. The smoke hit his lungs harder this time, forcing him to cough. His left hand instinctively clutched his chest as he tried to steady his breath.

Footsteps approached.

“They’re here,” the guard repeated, opening the door.

Just then without waiting for an answer. The two men entered the room. They walked to the desk and paused, "Hello, Mister Ghodse," They both greeted at once.

One, dark-skinned, wore a black coat with a white shirt and black tie. The other, pale-skinned, wore a white coat with a black shirt and white tie. Their pants and shoes matched their outfits.

“Come in, Black and White,” Ghodse said, finally turning around. His ears thought the voice came from outside. His round glasses rested on a deeply wrinkled face, his thick black hair streaked with gray at the edges.

“We’re already in, Mr. Ghodse,” the two men said in unison.

Ghodse chuckled, "I see," then he squinted at them, leaning in slightly. He himself couldn't believe what he was seeing.

The two men exchanged a quick glance behind their black goggles before focusing back on him.

“Is there something on our faces?” they asked, wiping their cheeks hastily.

“No…” Ghodse murmured, still scrutinizing them. “Are you two... twins?”

“Yes, any doubt?” they replied.

“But your... colors?” Ghodse started to ask, but the dark-skinned man cut him off.

“Oh, he has that English disease! Al...Albxykism or something.”

“Alnibism, you fool!” the pale man snapped. Little did they knew it was Albinism.

“Yeah, that!” the dark-skinned man nodded.

Ghodse grunted. “Alright.” He stubbed out his cigarette.

“By the way, how did a big man like you remember us small people?" the dark-skinned man asked.

Ghodse laughed. "In the world of the underworld, your names are right up there, Black and White. I could hardly believe it when you answered my call."

“We work for money, Ghodse, not people,” the dark-skinned man replied coolly. "So, what’s the job? You wouldn’t call us for anything small.”

Ghodse turned and slowly moved across the room. “This task is both easy and difficult.” He stopped, turning to look at them over his shoulder.

“We don’t get it. How can a task be both easy and difficult?” Their brows furrowed.