It Was a Sunday Night

Night

It was Sunday night. Two lonely figures stood on the sidewalk in silence. Nearby, a few store lights flickered and went off. It was late, almost ten-thirty, and not many were out and about.

"Do you have it?" A steely voice emerged out of the darkness. The voice belonged to a tall, intimidating figure. It was clothed in a heavy woolen coat, deep mahogany in color, which reached down to its knees, and thick black gloves. The chilly night air grasped at the words for a moment before releasing them. A smoky grey cloud billowed out of the speaker's mouth, ascending into the sky. A hand grabbed for an arm, and a sudden yelp of distress pierced the night. "Mr. Glenn, do you have it?" A streetlight flickered up ahead. The world held its breath, listening for an answer.

"Yes, my lord. I have it right here," replied the other man. The sound was worn and resigned, laden with sorrow and hesitation, a bit like the man himself. He was small and nervous, After he spoke, there were a few rustling noises, then a single click. A barely audible sigh, then a rumble of approval.

"You have done better than I thought you would." The figure nodded. "Yes. This is good. Usable." The person started to stride away. Panic and confusion flitted across the smaller man's face. He gulped and gathered up his courage.

"Wait, my lord." The tall figure paused. "M-my payment. When will it come?" The taller man turned his back and started to walk away, shaking his head.

"Your payment. I will send it as soon as I make sure the Eoff works." He left without another word, whisking off into the night. His companion scurried off as well, ducking his head and dodging across the street.