If Carl would’ve known that morning before getting dressed that this was going to be his last day alive, he certainly wouldn’t have worn these boots. He hated the way they’d always hurt his feet from the moment he was coaxed into buying them by Allan. He didn’t like the way they felt, he didn’t like their weight, he didn’t even like the colour, but Allan said they’d be perfect for the jungle walks they were all looking forward to and so he bought them. He went on a couple of walks to try to break them in before the trip. In fact, he even wore them the night the four of them went to Mrs Salonga, the future reader.
Carl always said he wanted to die in style. Torn to pieces while screaming until your last breath was definitely not the style he had in mind. Nor those boots.
Allan was still in the shower when the phone rang at 7:13am. Carl answered. It was Philip advising that the driver had just called and would be ready to pick them up in the hotel lobby at 7:30.
After hanging up, Carl walked in the bathroom, told Allan to hurry up and looked through his toiletries’ bag to find some aspirins. They had all drank way too much the night before and he wanted the hangover to go away, he wanted to be in a better shape for the long walk ahead. He was already dressed, he was wearing a green polo shirt, beige cargo shorts and a pair of running shoes. Still, he opened the closet door and saw his boots. He hesitated for a second, knowing Allan would insist he wore them, especially today and wanting to avoid the argument, he picked them up off the closet floor.
Allan was still whistling “Together, Wherever We Go” from Gypsy as he turned the shower tap off. He definitely could get dressed and make his way to the lobby withing 15 minutes.
TO BE CONTINUED…