م

“Adam!” someone cries. Coughs. “Please, man, if you’re in there—”
I freeze. The voice sounds familiar.
Adam’s spine straightens in an instant. His lips are parted, his eyes astonished. He punches in the pass code and turns the latch. Points his gun
toward the door as he eases it open.
“Kenji?”
A short wheeze. A muffled groan. “Shit, man, what took you so long?”
“What the hell are you doing here?” Click. I can hardly see through the small slit of the door, but it’s clear Adam isn’t happy to have company.
“Who sent you here? Who are you with?”
Kenji swears a few more times under his breath. “Look at me,” he demands, though it sounds more like a plea. “You think I came up here to kill
you?”
Adam pauses. Breathes. Doubts. “I have no problem putting a bullet in your back.”
“Don’t worry, bro. I already have a bullet in my back. Or my leg. Or some shit. I don’t even know.”
Adam opens the door. “Get up.”
“It’s all right, I don’t mind if you drag my ass inside.”
― Tahereh Mafi, Shatter Me