Dali

I remember the air that night. It was thick and moist, a combination of smoke and rain. I coughed as I took a deep breath. I tried to keep myself warm, but it was almost impossible in the cold, New York weather. People of all sorts brushed passed me as I crossed the street. Once I got to the other side, I ducked into a restaurant named The First Place. I wiped my feet on the doormat. I received a few glances from the people enjoying their midnight meals, but in moments, I was forgotten by them all. A man walked in behind me.
“Excuse me,” he said, trying to get around me. I watched him as he took a seat at the counter. He turned around to look at me. It was a quick look though, as if he was scanning the place and just happened to catch my eye. He looked back at the waitress as she started to take his order. I ran my fingers through my wet brown hair and walked across the room to the men’s room. When I got there, I locked the door behind me. I took another deep breath. There were four stalls in the room, on my left, and two sinks, on my right. It would be enough. I looked towards the sinks. The image in the mirror across from me looked awful. Bags were under his eyes, as if the recent sleepless nights had taken their toll on him. I looked down at my feet, my black Converse shoes soaked. There was suddenly a noise. The handle jiggled as someone tried to open it. I closed my eyes.
“Right now?” I asked no one. I stood up and walked to the last stall in the room. I locked the door behind me, and stood on the toilet, as to make sure my feet couldn’t be seen. I heard the handle jiggle some more, and then the door open. I took a deep breath. I tensed my left hand. I heard the first stall door open. One. The second stall door opened slowly. Two. The third stall door creaked open. Three. The stalls were built in a strange way, I have to admit, and it gave me a slight advantage. Stall four’s door was special, because it was constructed in a way that it would smack into stall three’s door if opened too wide. Anyone standing there when this happened wouldn’t be killed, they wouldn’t even be hurt, but they would be surprised. I kicked the door open. Just as I thought it would, it hit whoever it was standing at stall three. He wasn’t affected in anyway, but he was surprised. I jumped off the toilet I was standing on and landing next to the door. I shoved it into him. He tried to fight back, but I cornered him into stall three easily. I got ready for a fight. I removed the door from between us by opening it again, and he welcomed me with his foot, which was meant to kick the door open. I took it in the chest, and stumbled back into one of the sinks. He moved faster than I had expected. He was already on his feet and coming at me by the time I had gotten up. He threw a fist at me. I caught his wrist and rammed my knee into his stomach. He yelled in pain. I shoved him into one of the mirrors over the sinks. It cracked, and now he was bleeding from the head. He slumped to the ground. I sighed. There was a bruise on my arm now. I rubbed it as I left the rest room. No one glanced at me this time as I walked back out into the main part of the restaurant. The waitress held something out at me as I passed.
“The man who was sitting here wanted me to give you this,” she said. I took it.
“Thank you,” I said, “when did he leave?” I asked her. If it wasn’t too long ago, I could still catch up with him. She shook her head.
“He hasn’t left yet, he just went to the men’s room,” she said. I nodded and walked away. He must have known I was going to leave that rest room without him. I read the card as I left.
“The Money Man,” I said aloud.