On a quiet summer’s eve, the windows lining the length of Second Street were brightly lit, illuminating wood-carved signs above the doors of the town’s shops and restaurants. One such sign said, ”Little Mangia: Fine Italian Dining” in faded blue letters surrounded by a bright red border. A man sat outside this tiny restaurant on the quaint little patio in a shadowy corner that seemed all his own.  Comfortably crossing his long gangly legs under the table, his sharp azure eyes briefly scanned The Washington Post heralding the grim headline “U.S. Senate Bombing Leaves 50 dead, 22 injured”.                                        

His lips were set in a hard line as he gingerly flipped through similar articles and set the herald of misfortune on the table with a soft slap that echoed in the emptiness of the street. He reached into his trenchcoat and pulled out a finely engraved gold pocketwatch, glancing at the time as if he was expecting someone.

The stairs to the patio creaked just then as an elderly man approached the table. For a split second the two men’s eyes met. The younger man’s visage registered shocked recognition and surprise, his expression similar to that of a child who had just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar before dinner. His sapphire eyes gazed awkwardly for a moment, but returned to their normal emotionless state as their owner gave a nonchalant salute and motioned for the older man to sit.  The wind slightly ruffled the man’s snowy white hair as he leaned heavily on his cane and sat down in the sun-soaked chair, giving a nod of thanks to the other seated across from him.                                                                                         

As if summoned by the second guest’s arrival, the elegantly dressed waiter came bearing two menus, one black and the other white. The aged veteran of life adjusted his tie, framed by a tweed jacket and corduroy pants, before affixing a pair of spectacles to his nose. He blinked a few times and then stared at the menu, his dark eyes scrolling from left to right like a typewriter. His companion did not pick up the menu immediately however, but instead stared unnervingly at the waiter, silently demanding an excuse for the lack of consistency. “Please excuse the menus sir,” the waiter said, his bow tie quivering “we change them every week or so as the chef seems to love constantly cooking something new, so in the rush to print up the new list of dishes, mistakes are made. Coloration of the paper and ink is no exception and we had only this one left to distribute. However I do apologize profusely on our restaurant’s behalf…” The man with the freezing glare gradually relaxed his gaze and opened his menu as the waiter timidly awaited the two men’s decision.                                        

“So what’s new after fifteen or twenty years?” the second man said to other as he carefully removed his spectacles and placed them inside an inner pocket after they had both ordered.

”Oh, nothing much old man, just the same boring routine, still being chased by those dogmatic hounds of law, but my trail is too well concealed by mist and fog.” The man clothed in darkness calmly replied. ”Your incessant love of metaphors will do you in someday…you should have become a poet or English teacher instead of what you’ve become….”

“Oh really? I doubt it, there is little purpose to be found in pointless babble and debate…”                                                                                                                      

“Well, they’re a hell a lot safer than the occupation you’ve chosen, and you know I can’t let you dig yourself deeper into the early grave you’re headed for, so please give up this foolish game!”                                                                                            

“Oh, who’s obsessed with the metaphors now?” the shady man mischievously inquired as his cerulean eyes twinkled in the dying light.

”Dammit, stop playing with me!” the old man exclaimed as he slammed a wrinkled hand into the table, ”I know what you’ve been doing, it’s been splattered all over the news!” 

“You really think I’m that daft?” the younger replied, allowing a small smile to play over his lips, “I’ve already given generous donations to the press to keep them quiet. Anything or anyone has their price. That’s the only thing I’ve learned from our ‘just and moral’ leaders….“

His eyes flickered and turned an icy at the mere mention of the last word, but in a flash he regained his composure and continued. ”Besides, most of that work,” he indicated the paper,” was done by copycats, rogue anarchists who don't have any finesse. I was usually very subtle, don’t you remember?”

“No, the thing I remembered the most was your ego, and that hasn’t changed a bit either,” The elder said sourly, “and if you insist on continuing, I’m afraid I’ll have to take full advantage of that and use whatever means to stop you! For the good of all who live in peaceful and harmonious era!”                                                                                        

The man sitting across from him laughed. ”I’m impressed, you’re still the batty old loyalist even after all these years, believing that such a corrupt government could work for the peace and harmony of the people as it is now!”                                                                                                                              

“And you,” sneered the wintry man, ”the idealist, believing that such stunts will bring revolution to this country or as you have dared say, the world!”

The man shrouded in gloom took out his pocketwatch again and silently sighed, “Maybe it won’t, but it’s one step toward it…”

He briefly paused but quickly spoke on after suppressing his doubts, his tone reflecting strengthened resolve, ”My mind is made up, and you can’t stop me from my unerring course, so sit back, be a good senile old fool, and stay out of my way!”

Just then, the waiter carefully arrived with two ornate silver dishes, each accenting an elaborately decorated tiramisu. The innocent man had no chance to cry out as he tripped and fell over a loose floorboard unable to find a point of equilibrium…