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     Julian stood in front of the stained brass plated door.

     He could see on the door's reflection the multitude of brave souls making their way through the changarros. The plan was to simply walk out when he was done and quickly disappear in the crowd without anyone noticing, It shouldn't be hard to do in a crime-infested colonia. People often just want to make it home safe and not be witnessed to what happens around them. He flipped the business card one more time to confirm the address-Manzana 20 Lote 10 Genaro Lopez, Col. San Miguel Teotongo, Iztapalapa-El Portón de Oro-. He proceeded to turn the doorknob; it was a bit stuck; but it wasn't locked. Perfect he thought, he wouldn't have to pick the lock. He looked to his right and left then gently pushed open the door. He stepped into an empty narrow room lit by a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. He could smell fresh paint. As he slowly closed the door, he pressed the locking pin, but he couldn't prevent the sound of the spring lock echoing across the room as it latched. He heard the sound of steps coming from around the hall but decided to make his way further inside the room anyway. Every step he took was in pace with the ticking of the old wall clock, it was 5:50 pm. Slowly he made his way forward, a silhouette of a man suddenly appeared turning the corner and walking towards him through the dusty rays of the afternoon sun that pierced the windows and lit the dark hallway.

     "Buenas tardes ¿como lo puedo ayudar?" the man asked with suspicion. 

     "Me dijieron que aqui puedo encontrar ¿un doctor?" Julián responded.

     "Ah si, si, si! pasa por aqui por favor." the man enthusiastically replied.

     He was inviting with a massive smile on his face as he gestured with his hand to approach and then pointed to his left. Julian was cautious of the man´s welcoming and courteous attitude, oblivious to what was about to happen to him. Julian proceeded to walk towards him, cautiously stepped into the room and gripped the pistol from behind his back as he slowly followed him inside. The man grabbed a squeaky olive green vinyl chair with obvious signs of abuse and rolled it over towards Julian.

     "Siéntate, por favor." The man ordered Julian, with a commanding but respectful tone. 

     Julian took a moment to look around the room to get a glimpse of his surroundings before taking a seat. The walls were freshly painted white, bare with only a few books stacked on top of a gray metal desk with a dent on the front. On the opposite end of the room, a couple of folded metal chairs were resting next to a small plaid sofa with different color pillows strewn across and a transparent plastic tarp covering them. In the corner of the room-a side table and on it an ashtray with crumpled cigarette butts. An old lamp with a small tear in the shade lit up the corner.

     "¿Está todo bien?," asked the man.

 

Frontera Alternative Independent Media Studio