He didn't work long hours, but he worked odd ones. Always in the dark, in that second story office with the window looking out to one of the roads of the Red Light District. On weekends the

drunks

and

whores

would be out. Everyone either waiting for something to happen. Or looking to make something happen.

He stared through his blinds down at them. Smoking his

cigarettes

wondering how the people underneath couldn't see him. The window he peered down from was not high off the ground. He felt like they were so close, like he was simply staring over a

bathroom stall

watching a person take a shit.

But nobody ever looked up at him. Sometimes they'd look up, but they'd be pointing to something else. Like the sky or a sign for another bar. No. People around these parts, around this time of night didn't give a shit about a random man watching down on them puffing on his cigarette.

This, among others, was what he liked about working these odd hours smack dab in the red light district. There was nobody to bother him. The world he did care about was fast asleep. And the world that came out in its place he didn't give two fucks about.

The landline phone started ringing.

He picked up within one ring.

"Hello?"

"Is this the Greco office?"

"Yes. Yes it is. How may I help--"

"By the end of the month. You'll be dead."

"--you?"

Click. The phone went dead. He put down the receiver and stared at the

calendar

posted on the wall. It hadn't been changed since last month. He went over and flipped the page. Dang. According to that mysterious phone call he only had 13 more days to live. Thirteen. An ominous sign he thought. What was it with all these prank caller these days anyways? They were really beginning to get annoying. Sometimes they'd try to sell him some phone sex, other times a new TV set. But damn, this was the first time they told them he was going to die.

He didn't mind people making a buck their own way, but he didn't think anyone had the right going around telling people they were going to die. Unless they were doctors of course. What an ass, he thought as he took another cigarette out. Looking at it he thought he might as well smoke up if he had less than two weeks to live. No point in quitting now.

"Yeah, that's right! Fuck you!" he screamed while pointing at his phone. He took a drag off his cigarette and suddenly heard from the door...

"Who are you talking to?"

It was Vicky. "How the hell did you... When did you get in here?"

"Just now."

"Funny. I swear I didn't hear you at all."

"Maybe because you were shouting. What was that all about?"

"Strange thing, Vick. Strange thing. Have you ever gotten a call from a dark, voiced man, telling you you were going to die soon?"

Vick rolled her eyes and made for the front of the office.

"I'm serious, Vick! I just got that phone call."

"I'm sure it's just a prank call. A bunch of stoned high school--"

"They had a deep voice! No way this was some kids." He stormed into the reception area where Vicky's desk was. She was already sitting down.

"So what are you going to do? Go and find them and teach them a--"

"Exactly! Vick, I'm heading out. I'm going to find out who did this. And I'm going to make things right."