Run
#27days27stories Prompt No. 4
I don't need providence to tell me when my luck's run out. I've got eyes, and I didn't fail to notice three men in trench coats trickle in as I took my time with a bowl of ramen. I hadn't come for the noodles, but I wasn't eager to meet the muzzle of a .38 revolver, either.
After sipping the last drop of broth as slowly as I could, I purged from my mind any lingering hope that my guy would still show. Then I reached for the individually wrapped fortune cookie a waitress had left beside my sweating glass of water, the ice now melted. Just to buy a few more seconds of calm. It cracked between my fingers, and I slid free the thin strip of paper boldly proclaiming my future.
I couldn't call the single word of advice written in red ink a fortune. It was more like an omen, or like shouting the obvious, and I tried to keep a poker face and not scoff at the three letter word twisting itself around every nerve in my body.
Run.
But I didn't. I waited for a handsome man with jet black hair and narrow eyes to make his move. Sliding into the seat across from me, he leaned in and looked me over until he gauged exactly how long it would take me to pull my .45 pistol. Then he spoke in a low, smooth tone anyone else would mistake as friendly.
“Hand over the film nice and quiet, and you won't end up as dead as the man outside.”