Square Times

Kyle hated night shifts. On days like this, he wakes up past noon. Not because he wanted to, but because the sun leaked through the torn blinds of his single room apartment and made sleep impossible.

He sat up slowly,shaking off the fragments of dreams he never remembered. He had to freshen up. The air in his small apartment hung with the scent of instant coffee and old books. His mornings were sacred, quiet hours. He spent them walking through the city’s back alleys with his headphones on, sometimes sketching in the notebook he kept hidden beneath a stack of apartment receipts.

Kyle wasn’t chasing anything tangible during the day, just quiet. Peace. A place where no one asked too many questions. He pulled up his jacket and just as he’s about to step out, his phone rang. Finn. He slides to the right. “Hey man” “Yo, I’m stealing you today, Square Times. Don’t argue..” Kyle’s lip twitched. Finn had always been the relentless kind, sunshine wrapped in designer boots and charm. He was everything Kyle wasn’t: Loud, confident, soft. They met during the city fair a few months ago. “Alright but bills on you” Kyle said, glancing at his time. 12:30PM. “Like i don’t know that” Finn scoffed and he could feel his eyes roll as he said that.

Square Times was warm. Too warm.Tucked in a part of town where cobbled roads led to art galleries and museums, it was the kind of place where time slowed down and people wouldn’t notice.

Finn waved from a corner booth. “You look like hell,” he said, smiling too wide. Kyle sat, pulling off his hoodie. “You always say that.” “That’s because you always look like hell.” Their conversations were always like this; playful jabs wrapped around deeper silences. Finn had tried to “save” Kyle once. Offered him a job at his father’s firm. Kyle declined, every time. “I’m not a pity project,” Kyle had said back then. “You’re not. You’re my friend.”

But Kyle knew what that kind of offer meant. Dependency. Weakness. And he couldn’t afford either, not with the weight of his past and the revenge he still cradled in his chest like a knife.

Over sandwiches and coffee Kyle couldn’t pronounce, they talked about movies, politics, and the absurdity of tourists. Kyle listened more than he spoke, as usual. But he laughed. A real one. It cracked through the usual walls and echoed a little too long.

Later at night. He stands by his usual position with his well ironed uniform. Rain kissed the floor in soft taps. The luxury hotel’s driveway shimmered under the streetlights. He stood beneath the valet tent with three others, shoulders squared, posture straight, like a soldier in disguise. To everyone else, he was just a valet, name tag clipped neatly on his chest, gloves in his pocket, and keys at the ready. But Kyle Rutherford had once belonged to the kind of family who didn’t wait outside in the rain. The kind of family that built dreams… before someone took their lives. Now, he wore shadows like armor. Quiet. Invisible. Watching.

The Orlen Hotel wasn’t just any luxury destination. It was a dwelling of the elite. The kind of place where politicians whispered over rare wine and people sealed deals with handshakes over breakfast. Kyle had watched every face, every car, every rhythm. Not because he needed to but because revenge taught you how to pay attention.

Tonight, something felt off. Something in the wind. He sensed it the moment the black Maserati slid up the curved driveway, its windows dark, its body polished to perfection. The emblem glinted beneath the canopy lights as the car rolled to a stop. His co-worker Brian stepped forward, smooth and practiced. The driver’s door opened first, and a man in a coat stepped out. He stepped out like he didn’t just own the hotel, but the entire city. His suit was ink-dark and pristine. His tie, obsidian silk. His expression, the kind that turned glass into ice. Pale grey eyes scanned the entrance like he was already bored. Brian moved forward with his hand out. “Good evening, sir. May I..” The man didn’t spare him a glance. He held out the key fob between two fingers, “Don’t scratch it.” Brian took it wordlessly and gave him the ticket. The man walked away like he was in a hurry.

“Who is he?” Kyle said looking at his back as he walked towards the hotel entrance “who is he?! You'll find out soon enough “ Brian said with raised eyebrows, then a smirk. Just as he was about to enter the car, his phone blinked, he checked it “damn, I forgot I have to meet up with a task after now. Kyle do me a favour, I’ll drive this car to the vip garage” oh, he's a VIP, Kyle thought to himself, “then I’ll drop the key with you so when he comes out, ready to go, you can hand the car over to him” Kyle sighed. This is the tenth time Brian is asking him for Favours. “Sure no problem”. He entered the car, grinned and drove off. In 10 minutes Brian walked back to the tent, handing the key to Kyle “thanks again bruh” “anytime” then he walked off. Probably to the dresser room to change. Kyle looked at the empty space from where he stood, the rain had stopped and the weather was whispering a cool breeze. Sometimes are like this.

The man from before came out of the hotel again with the hotel manager at his side and one hand to his ear on the phone “alright, I’m leaving now” he said while his eyes were searching, probably for one of us. “Hey, you there! Get my car immediately.” Rich people pisses me the fuck off.

Kyle started walking towards the VIP Garage and then, the man shouted from behind “Goddammit, don’t walk, run!” He glanced back at the manager and his eyes were begging him to obey and so he did and not because of that man.