“What if, one day, you could find Aladdin’s Lamp under your bed? Or another day, you fail to see your reflection in the mirror. But either ways, it’ll prove that you are a smokescreen of yourself.“
“Bullshit!” he mumbled, sipping his whiskey, discarded the ominous note under his table. Clearly, a man of actions, not words. Concentrating on the sting, set up at this bar; dingy, moldy, full of the grey mist that enveloped the same venue some 20 years back.
Remembering how he helped smoke out a mole in the police department, he felt proud, as if cleaning the dirt of the society. But how did he transform into his evil reflection?
Waiting for his nemesis, he caught a glimpse of the Aladdin’s Lamp, lurking around. Suddenly, his greed filled his memories, nostrils choked with gunpowder smoke and his still-born eyes reflected his enemy, his partner, the mole.
