Passionate Hate
He asked rhetorically, his soft baritone had become stiffened with anger, pulling at the man.
The car door opened, I could see his face, Julian’s face was moist with sweat, I had never seen him this angry, his eyes were low, frightening, a glare on his face.
“I…I’m sorry” the man stammered, I watched him as I froze, my phone clutched tightly.
“Who sent you?” Julian asked, his tone demanding an immediate answer as his hand folded into a fist.
“Talk now!!” He demanded.
“I’m calling the police” I said, taking my phone to be dialed, my hands quivering.