Nadia's Point Of View
The server's breath emerged in ragged, wet gasps as he slipped past the heavy velvet curtains, his face slick with sweat under the dim corridor lighting. The gold threads in the fabric seemed to mock him, glinting like knife edges. He practically threw himself toward my corner, his black tuxedo jacket flapping like the wings of a panicked crow. His hands shook so violently the empty silver tray rattled like loose teeth in a skull.
"I did it," he hissed, his voice cracking like a teenager's. He kept glancing over his shoulder, his eyes wide and bloodshot, as if he expected security to materialize from the shadows and drag him into the abyss. "It's done. All three of them. Now do not bother me anymore, okay? I don't know you, and you don't know me. We never spoke. We never breathed the same air." His Adam's apple bobbed, his throat working as though he were trying to swallow his own tongue.
