Out for Coffee, In the Tea

One sip and I remembered why I hated traveling. Egyptian coffee is the worst, if you’re picking an exotic locale to visit and stake out a cafe. The sun beat down, threatening to ignite my fedora and white suit. That would have been a shame considering what I paid for it. Then again, it wasn’t like I didn’t have money to burn.

Khadir Al Fahid finally arrived, grinning an impish grin on his fat face. That seemed justification enough to me, but my employers wanted me to make sure. The memories were fresh, and he didn’t fight when I teased them to the surface. Faces filled with fear turned up towards him in his mind’s eye. His own plump hands filled his view, engulfing a small body with brutal abandon.

I had to take a sip of the horrid coffee just to cleanse my palate. A moment’s concentration, and Khadir collapsed dead into his overpriced tea. The coroner would later find a burst aneurysm, a natural death.

Almost laughable what telekinesis and a basic understanding of neuroanatomy can accomplish.

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