Luna Miller (part 1)

LUNA MILLER (part 1)
The whole thing had started on a rather unremarkable rainy day in late
September just over 2 years ago.
He was sat in his studio daydreaming while the computer selected yet
another song to play from a list of just over 2000. Trying to remember
the song made him drift back in time and although his memory of the
moment was rather vivid when it came down to remembering the music his
mind drew a blank.
In the end he appropriately settled for "What a difference a day makes"
by Dinah Washington. It made no difference though, not now and not
then.
His studio was small and dark, situated in an old style office block
with a couple of windows facing onto a wall. It would have been
depressing were it not for the fact that he loved the place, as it
reminded him of the set from a Raymond Chandler novel, with it's dark
wooden walls, the chunky desk and all the other bits he had gradually
collected to turn the place into exactly that.
It was late in the afternoon when the bell rung, this was unusual in
itself, as most his business was conducted remotely, by e-mail and
phone, sometimes by fax.
His clients included artists, design companies, copywriters, record
labels, a bank and various private individuals. What they expected from
him were ideas, which ranged from logos, to designs, to presents for
the wife, to new and challenging art works. The prices they paid were
high but guaranteed complete confidentiality, meaning that the end
result was attributed to the client rather then himself.
That was what his clients treasured. At times he didn't even know who
he worked for, he got the order and got paid and that was that, no
names were mentioned.
He was fast, reliable and perhaps a little over confident, which at
times was read as arrogance and no one could argue with that.
The bell disturbed his thoughts and he frowned. When it rang again he
slowly reached to buzz the visitor in, it would take another few
minutes, before whoever was there would reach the fourth floor.
Visitors often turned out to be more trouble then they were worth and
this one was no different. He took his feet off the table turned the
music down a little, rearranged the top of his desk with a swipe of his
hand, then anticipated the inevitable knock.
'Incongruous Appropriations' was what it said on the door, incidentally
it was also the name of his very own company.
A small window on his computer showed the corridor to his office, he
could see a tall well dressed woman approach, then there was the
hesitant knock he had expected to hear. He pressed another buzzer,
which allowed his visitor into the office.
A young woman in her late twenties entered, she was dressed in a bluish
patterned coat and straight black trousers, nothing spectacular
everything rather functional and formal.
Her arms were long and wavy, cutting through the air before shaking his
hand, lanky would be an expression, which may be appropriated, but
somehow it doesn't quite fit. Her eyes are a cold turquoise, rimmed by
a set of dark brows they show little if any emotion.
"Luna Miller," she utters through tight full lips that are a deep red,
contrasting her pale skin.
"Kelm Rose," he replies and indicates for her to sit. "How can I
help?"
His eyes follow her as she carefully places herself at the edge of the
seat, 'constrained', is the word that crosses his mind as she sits very
straight opposite him.
Then she speaks. Her voice is a matter of sounds cut together with no
melody in mind, staccato, like a handful of ice-cubes dropped in a
glass.
"And her nerves play up as well," he thinks as her hands and fingers
seem to underline every word she say's.
Identity. New. Two of the words he makes out before his ears
adjust.
"I would like to be reinvented!
"Reinvented? Kelm shakes his head and how am I to understand that to be
clear?"
"Well," she hesitantly tilts her head to one side dreamily staring at
the ceiling for a moment before she snaps back into role.
"You know ... , turn me into something else, change my perception, make
me a better person use your head and do the impossible."
"That may set you back a few grand you know."
"As long as I come out happy the other end I don't care what it
costs."
"Fair enough," Kelm says indicating that he is about to accept the
assignment
"I'll be back in touch to hear some suggestions. Oh and here is some
info to get a better idea," she says. There is a twinkle in her eyes,
which confuses him.
"Can you do that?"
"I won't charge if I can't come up with something. Is there a number I
can reach you on?"
"Yes," she pushes a plain card across the table.
Luna Miller, it reads, then a number, and e-mail address there is
nothing nice about the card, its just functional.
He looks at her again and nods, "I call you when I have
something."
When she rises there is an air of nobility, which rises with her, but
soon fades away. Then she is gone, all that is left is the dossier and
a slight smell of stale smoke.

"Heavy smoker," he concludes, "insecure," he concludes further, before
taking some paper to note down his observations.
He quickly fills a page, which reads much like a shopping list of
things you wouldn't want for Christmas.
"What it boils down to is her lack of empathy. That," he concludes, "is
her main problem."
He pulls the dossier closer, but decides to leave it until the next
day, regurgitating what he has learned rather then what she wants him
to learn.
On that note he rises, switches, all there is to switch off, opens,
closes and locks the door, before descending the grand staircase which
echoes with every step he takes, till he reaches the bottom, opening
the heavy door which slowly closes behind him.
Outside he hesitates for a moment, pulls his coat closer while
contemplating where to go. "Food," he checks his watch, which clearly
shows feeding time. He turns left, then changes his mind and instead
crosses the street before turning into a small dimly lit side street,
swiftly rushing through, only just avoiding a big paddle. At the end of
the street he turns left back on a main road before reaching a semi
pretentious bar and kitchen. A look through the big window assures him
that it is neither full nor empty inside, which he appreciates as it
has all the potential to be anything. A black mountain of a man greets
him with a smile on his big face and a big hand reaches to shake
his.
Friendly words are being exchanged before Kelm moves deeper inside the
bar, seeking and finding a table for himself.
He's got food on his mind, and that seems all that matters at the
moment, familiar with the rather sparse but equally delicious menu he
quickly decides on a couple of chops, a salad, mash and a beer to wash
it down with.
Maria comes over, nods, takes his order, returns with his beer and sits
down to say hello.
After an initial time of infatuation the two of them had become close
friends, friends who could talk without the need to hold back. And more
then once in the past the two of them have learned to rely on each
other. Maria if described by Kelm would be a woman of extraordinary
charm and character, she would stand up for you like a rock with a
heart soft as butter. Which made her rather vulnerable at times, so as
much as she looked out for others, others did the same for her.
"Where have you been," she fires at him once seated.
"Ah," and with a swiping gesture he wipes her question away, "you don't
want to know Maria. Nice new hair you got."
"You like?"
"Looks good on you."
"You are such a charmer."
"Only when I mean it."
"Yeah right. Tell me what you've been doing I haven't seen you for
weeks."
"Been busy, had all these functions to go to, they are good for
business, but incredibly boring. Seems I pulled a new client on board,
quite a challenge."
"What is it?"
"A girl, she wants a makeover."
"You doing styling now?"
"I knew you would take the piss, it's a bit more than that, I think she
would really like to be someone else. But I haven't even looked at her
file yet, just been trying to figure out what to make off her from what
I saw."
"And what is that."
"Hm, not sure. Redundant. Contrived. Constrained and not very good with
people all in all a bit wooden like an old spinster."
"And what does she want to be."
"I haven't looked at her papers yet, but from what she said I would say
she wants to be her opposite."
"Sounds interesting, but listen I got to do some work."
She rises and he blows a kiss her way, which she accepts with two
raised eyebrows, certainly a reaction you don't get from just anyone.
His head tilts that little bit which indicates affection, as his eyes
follow Maria walking towards the bar. She's a proper woman, he notices
once again, with proper hips and the ability to move them with a
natural elegance you get from someone who is comfortable with
themselves.
A few minutes later his food arrives.

The next morning, like most mornings he pops into the coffee shop on
the way to his studio, getting a croissant and a coffee, then walks the
remaining distance before climbing the stairs.
When he reaches and enters, the room smells small, dusty and stale,
like most days, till those smells are broken down by the coffee.
He plunges into his chair and remembers a line, once produced for a
client, it went:" The smell of lilies fills my empty flat, I like that
smell ...," he spontaneously picks up the phone and orders a bunch.
There is a certain truth in that sentence.
He flicks through today's paper, browses some articles, while sipping
coffee and nibbling croissant before he picks up the envelope left for
him the night before.
There are about 10 photographs mostly colour except for a couple which
are black and white, those seem from a different era altogether and
appear to depict a long dead film star rather than the woman he met
yesterday. But as he spreads them across the table the similarities
grow and little by little he discovers someone who bares little
resemblance to the woman he had met. And as he forgets about the
coffee, which is getting colder at the edge of his desk, he observes
the pictures with an increasing interest.
The person he looks at is undoubtedly the same woman who had visited
the day before but in an isolated instance she could be cheerful and
charming. Her smile spread so far that it hurt his eyes to look at, but
her eyes still reflected the same lack of emotion, her hair tight back
neatly, the image burned itself deep into his mind. There is clearly a
contradiction between how the woman came across when face-to-face and
how she did on photographs. This in itself was not all that strange
but...
"Perhaps she had a bad day, there must be a lot of reason for someone
wanting to be reinvented."
Then he came to her written accounts of who she was, the how she
described herself, which again was more like his first impression.
Cold, lack of emotion, a listed view with no passions, formalistic
redundant and somehow dead.
She dealt in illustrated impressions that she would work with the
naivety of a child. Her street credibility appeared to be minus
something, which was probably part of the problem, explaining her
distrust in anything human and the lack of emotional activity.
And that is what it is, she wants to shed that inability to get
involved beyond point zero. She wants to be in it to her neck feel the
urge and need to feel something and express that feeling, project it
out into the world with no restriction.
It sounded as if she was ready to go under the surgeon's knife for a
bit of plastic enhancement, a brainwash seemed most appropriate in this
case.
He hesitated deciding on whether to call her immediately or think
things over. One can never be to sure as to how someone will react when
their shortcomings are being presented with such brutal honesty. Then
he picks up the phone and calls Maria.
"It's me. I want to talk to you about the client I mentioned last
night, if you got time, anytime is good for me."
"We can do this afternoon, I'm free till five."
"Do you want to come by my office around 2:30?"
"See you then."
They hung up. 2:30pm was good for him he could pop down, get some lunch
then try and gather a little more sense together, before having a head
banging session with Maria whom he should really start to pay." He made
a note to mention it to her later.
When Maria turned up that afternoon, he was still chewing the last of
his sandwich while staring at the pictures, which had become strangely
familiar.
"Is that her?" Maria asks.
Kelm looks up and nods.
"Quite a catch," Maria admits taking one of the pictures off the table.
"Are you sure you know what she wants?"
"I wish I was, from what is in here and he held up the pile she had
given to him, I would say she is aiming for a complete
transformation."
Maria's eyes grew bigger, "Like a brainwash?
"Well that's the hard thing to know, I guess I have to talk a bit more
sense with her before going to this assumption, but yeah it seems a
possibility."
"You ever done that before?"
"Ah, not exactly, but I've read about it, it doesn't seem that much of
a big deal to be honest."

"Did she ever say what exactly she wanted?"
"Not in so many words, perhaps she has just come out of a relationship
and needs a repair."
"And you are to be the mechanic." Maria laughs loud and heartily.
Well, his hands seem to say as they stretch out. "I ain't that bad
Maria, there is worse out there I tell ya."
"I think you need to spend some time with the girl and see what needs
to be done. Perhaps all is perfectly well, just that she needs a little
time to readjust to whatever the new situation. Perhaps she is over
reacting at this moment doing something that in reality she neither
wants nor needs, something she quite possibly regrets later on. Don't
waltz in there with a brainwash and change something rather delicate
and unique forever."
"I am starting to feel like an evil therapist of some sort."
"Well, you can listen and give people a feeling that they are
wanted."
"On a good day, on a bad day I would rather sit under my desk trying to
make sense of the world around me."
"Sounds like you are perfect for the job indeed. Any idea as yet how to
go about it?"
He looks at her with big dark eyes that seem to pull closer together
while his brain is trying to work out what to do next.
"I was hoping you could tell me that," he finally replied.
"If I was you I would tell her to go somewhere else."
"That's great help Maria, now what exactly would I do without you."
There is sarcasm in his voice and not just a hint. "I want to work this
out, if not for her then for myself."
"Exactly the wrong reason to stick with it."
He sighs and raises both hands in a seemingly helpless gesture before
dropping them back on the table, starting to shuffle the papers around
slowly. Maria can see a glint of obsession reflected in his eyes and
knows him well enough to know that there is no way back.
"I will call her later, I think."
She nods. "I hope you know what you are going to tell her."
Now it's his turn to nod but it's a slow heavy nod, which clearly
indicates for all to see that he isn't sure about many things right
now.
"It sure is easier to come up with an idea for something rather then
trying to remodel someone who is already. But then it's a
challenge."
Shortly after Maria leaves, Kelm makes another coffee, which sends him
slithering towards the edge of heart failure.
He lit a smoke, which he didn't enjoy much and quickly stubbed out
again.

It was almost eight when he started to gather his bits together to
leave the office. But it wasn't so much Luna Miller or food he had on
his mind, it was beer.
After Maria had left he kept going over everything again and again, but
to no avail, a brainwash was still the best thing he could think of.
But the days when you just charged ahead where gone, it was a matter of
consulting his client and see how far she was prepared to take
this.

He poured himself a small whiskey, then another, which he downed like
the first one in one big gulp. There was something satisfying about
whiskey, how it hit your taste buds before it hit your stomach, filling
it with that artificial warmth it promises on the bottle.
He had a look around the space that he had come to love like no other,
his hand gently caressed the edge of the heavy desk before he turned
the light off and left.
He would go to Maria's, there was no question in his mind.
Slowly descending the stair case, his thoughts trapped by the
inevitability of the impending decisions. He realised that he should
have done an Internet search before now. Just to see whether there is
so much of a hint about the woman who had become his client, see
whether there is something out there that she isn't handing to him. He
makes a mental note about checking this the next day and sticks it to
the side to his head.
It was fuller at the bar tonight, there were no tables that would allow
for him to sit and order drinks while brooding over his imperfect
misery, but he found a stool by the bar and ordered the first beer of
the night. Maria nodded a hello and shook her head when she saw his
solemn expression.
She knew that face, knew where it would lead, and reminded herself to
keep an eye on him. But it didn't matter, it never mattered in those
situations. He would go, and then he would head further and at one
point he would rise gain his balance and stagger out. After that she
wouldn't see him for a few days. That was her immediate assessment of
the situation, but as yet he had to get there first.
Behind him Jack entered the bar, wearing an old hat that turned heads
from the word go. He always wore an old hat, he had a vast collection
of old hats. Even the ones that weren't old would turn old the moment
they found there way onto his head. It wasn't that he was particularly
old, he didn't even look old. Under the rim of his hat a lively pair of
intelligent deep blue eyes were scanning the room, they got stuck on
Kelm's back then moved closer and a big hand cradled Kelm's shoulder.
Kelm knew that hand, he knew that he would see Jack when he turned
around. The fracture of a smile passed through his motion as he shook
his friends hand.
"How are you doing buddy," Jack inquired with a smile.
"Let's say I am good for a drink or two."
"That's good, as am I." He gestured to Maria for a beer and as with
Kelm, Maria needn't ask what he wanted.
"Like my new hat?" Jack asked with a grin.
"Didn't realise it was new," Kelm replied but gave the hat another
glance.
"Ah, well it's cause it's been treated. What's up anyway I haven't seen
you for some time and now that I do I wish I hadn't, you got that sour,
heart broken look on your face."
"Do I, well I ain't heart broken. Got a new client, slightly different
from the average job I get and somehow it reflects on me, or I reflect
on myself or something along those lines."
"Makes perfect sense I am right there with you buddy."
They had known each other for years, ask either of them how they had
come to know each other and they wouldn't be able to agree less and
easily get into an argument. The truth was that none but Maria
remembered, and she couldn't see the point in arguing.
Either way since that first night the two had become as close as two
people can, without being intimate. There was a mutual respect which
was the foundation of this friendship, it was a good and solid
friendship, naturally there were times when the ease with which they
usually got on was somehow off balance, but in the end they both knew
that they could count on each other.
"I ain't your buddy, mate," Kelm went on to say.
"Little touchy today are we?"
"Little confused is probably more to the point. It's this girl, she
wants me to reinvent her. Wants me to give her a makeover or something.
Like she's got her issues. But then so do I, so do we all. Anyway I've
been looking at what she gave me to work with and been going over the
meeting we had over and well I ain't no shrink you know."
"Maybe that's not entirely what she wants anyhow."
"What?"
"A shrink. If she wanted a shrink she would go and see a shrink
right."
"I suppose," Kelm replies hesitantly.
"So, you gotta think what it is she wants, it's obvious she doesn't
want a psychiatric evaluation from you, I mean look at you you're
hardly a psychologist."
"Hey, watch it man."
"Yeah. You got any idea what she meant when she said 'reinvent'?"
"I've been wondering that myself. All I know is that she seems pretty
damn serious, I mean seriously serious not a hint of humour or the
likes anywhere. I am under the impression she is prepared to take
things to the edge of the possible if only she could get out of her
skin she would be happy, but and that is the interesting thing she
isn't exactly desperate. If I can't do it, she'll go somewhere else. I
don't think it would be money that would stop her."
"Makes you wonder though, Jack interrupts, I mean its not exactly your
thing, why the fuck would she come to you?"
"I gotta ask her that myself, the only reason I can think of is the
fact that things stop with me. They don't go to the press they don't go
no further."
"Apart from that you are about to tell me the whole story right
now."
"You are a trustee Jack, for reasons unknown to me you have this trust
inducing ability."
"I feel flattered. Have you found out anymore about her
background?"
"Only what she gave me, I got to dig around the web a little
tomorrow."
"I'm surprised you haven't already."
"I got my ways of looking at things, it's routine even if the
circumstances alter. I think I will get in touch with Nick "the Dodge"
if there is anything to dig up then he is the man who can."
"I didn't know he was still alive."
"I guess he keeps himself to himself these days."
"We need more beer, I am starting to feel like the detective out of one
of your Chandler novels," and with that he signals Maria across the bar
to get two more beers. "It's a rather exciting feeling."
"You look the part with that hat."
Jack pushes the hat further back, giving Maria a flirtatious stare as
she puts two more beers in front of them clearing the empty glasses
away. She just shakes her head and rolls her eyes.
Jack laughs, then reaches for another cigarette.
"Give me one, please?"
"You don't smoke," but he offers the pack to Kelm.
"I do sometimes, like right now."
"Have you called her?"
He shakes his head. "There is nothing to tell, I need to get a
proposition together first."
Jack can't help but laugh about this.
"What's funny?"
"Your optimism in solving the least likely riddles."
"Well there is only one way to do things and that way is
forward."
"What if it all goes wrong?"
"I guess I won't get paid and I may loose a client."
"What's she like then, come on spit it out."
"Tall good looking, auburn hair tied back and flawless, smart, knows
what she wants and you wouldn't want to mess her around."
"Why?"
"Cause she probably bite of your head and goes bowling with it."
"Sounds like my kind of girl."
They have another couple of drinks before waving at Maria and leaving
the bar, heading into opposite directions once outside.
Kelm is in two minds whether to head back to the office to finish the
whiskey perhaps check for anything he may be able to dig out online or
head straight home. He takes the long route back, the one that leads to
the crossing from where both places are at an equal distance. Once
there he throws a coin, which after it drops to the ground he is unable
to locate again, reason enough to head home for the night.

When he wakes the next morning an intense headache fills most of his
head. He manoeuvres himself to the bathroom, enters the shower, alters
between hot and cold till he starts feeling remotely human again.
He dries himself slips into the day's clothes and leaves the flat. On
the way to the office he stops by Lorenzo's and orders the all day
breakfast special and a large coffee, then sits himself by the window
overlooking the street outside and most of the caf? inside. Slowly his
brain starts filling with the thoughts that had gathered in the last
few days. A small black booklet is being produced from inside his coat
and he spells out today's 'must do's'.
An hour later a breathless Kelm reaches his office on the fourth floor.
There are no new messages the automated voice of the answering machine
informs him on entry.
He starts the computer, which takes the best part of a minute then
automatically connects to the Internet to retrieve any messages. Some
invitations for social gatherings of some sort or other and some junk
mail is all there is for the day.
He opens the web browser enters the designated search page and enters
his clients name, the search takes longer than expected but produces
nothing. He sifts through a pile of addresses placed in a small box on
his desk till he finds what he is looking for.
He dials a number. A quiet man's voice eventually answers the
phone.
"Hello?"
"Kelm Rose here," he answers, "can I talk to Nick?"
"Speaking, what is it?"
"I need some information on someone?"
"Are you paying?"
"You owe me!"
"I had to try. Email me the details and I see what can be done. I get
back to you later today."
He hung up, then put all information relevant in a neatly compressed
pile and emailed the lot to Nick 'the Dodge'.
After that there was nothing much to do but wait, he occupied himself
by going through her papers again, just to be sure that he hadn't
missed anything. He played some music that seemed ill fitted for the
day and went through a number of magazines and papers with articles
that he had marked for reading but hadn't gotten around to.
About three hours later he received an email alert and downloaded his
messages.
There was the message from Nick he had been waiting for. It was a brief
formal note, which made him think, and wonder but didn't lead
anywhere.
There was nothing about any Luna Miller to be found anywhere. Almost
too clean a sheet, Nick indicated. It was as if she had never existed,
whoever she was she sure knew how to keep to herself.
Kelm wasn't sure whether that indicated danger he or possibly she was
in or whether that was simply all there was to her.
He decided to send her a to the point email.

Dear Ms. Miller
I write to you regarding our conversation and am happy to inform you
that I have reached a conclusion, which I would like to discuss with
you.
I would appreciate it if you could contact me at my office ASAP so we
can arrange a further meeting.
Regards

Kelm Rose

He clicked on send and the message was delivered to an anonymous
account from where it was forwarded to his client.
He was getting a little nervous, as it all seemed to become too
mysterious even for his standards. Something about his client both
fascinated and repulsed him. There were all these questions he needed
answered, the one that most bothered him, was the why she had come to
him, when you only had to open the yellow pages to find someone who
specialized in Human Replacement and Reinvention. It was something he
had never been particularly interested in even though it had crossed
his mind when he had started the business. The level of involvement
when dealing with people rather than abstracts was what made him decide
against it.
He was bothered as it was, what he didn't need was people banging on
his door in the middle of the night wanting their previous life back.
As far as he was concerned it lead to all sort of difficulties that he
could do without. So when he found himself confronted with the
possibility to go that way he was in two minds. At the same time his
curiosity was awakened and he felt challenged and had never been able
to turn down a good challenge.
He had to admit to himself that he wasn't overly familiar with the
rituals or practicalities of a brainwash, so if they were to take that
route he should get down on his knees and read up every last little bit
that was accessible to him right know.
The easiest, although not always the best way to get hold of that sort
of information was to get it of the web. He would simply order a 5000
word enlightening pack from Amazon, which would give him the basics to
perform the delicate operation.
And as often before he got a little carried away and felt rather
overconfident. Once printed out, he sat back, skipping through the less
interesting part and leaving out the gory bits, the essence was what he
had come for and he wasn't prepared to read a word more than necessary,
he made notes on the intrinsic parts. His mind was set to the task and
should his client decide not to go along he would have to terminate the
contract. Simple as that.

The next day, he received communication from the lady in question and
arranged for a meeting the day after, to discuss the outcome of his
research. During the time before the meeting he compiled a list of the
necessary gear he would have to get hold of for the mission to be
successfully completed.
The day after at 3pm sharp the bell rang and he buzzed to let his
client enter. A few minutes later he could see her approach down the
corridor and as she reached the door he pushed the other buzzer
allowing her to enter swiftly.
"Please", he pointed at the chair she had once before occupied.
"After contemplation and to the best of my knowledge and
understanding," he opened the conversation, "I have come to conclude
that the best way to go about your request would be to perform a
brainwash. However before we go any further I like to firstly inform
you that once this procedure has been performed there is no going back
to your previous state of mind."
Luna Miller, nods her expression is unmoved which he finds slightly
disconcerting, having expected a somewhat more physical reaction from
her or at least some form of feedback.
"Another question I have come to ask myself during the past few days is
the one regarding your choice of consulting me in that matter rather
than a more specialized consultant who could be easily attained from
the yellow pages."
His whole body was tensed as he was waiting for an answer.
He could see her nod again, then swallow, she opened and closed her
mouth then cleared her voice moved a little forward on her chair sat up
straight and started to talk.
"I have, prior to our first consultation, been in touch with a number
of Human Replacement and Reinvention Agencies, what I found was that
their approach was a rather inflexible one and their preferred outcome
often modelled on the norm, a norm that I have had to burden throughout
my life and one that I am aiming to shed. I believe that you have a
less orthodox view of the world imposing on it at times great
absurdities that nevertheless are being valid analogies of the norm as
perceived by you. Your vision is more artistic, something I find myself
aspiring to, and hence the logistics behind my decision are purely
selfish in sight of a perfection which I seek."
If anything, he hadn't expected an explanation as detailed as the one
he had gotten and then on the other hand it was very her, formal and
straight to the point.
Cool, he thought and had that stupefied grin on his face, which most
people found rather repulsive to take for more than a second or two. He
quickly recomposed himself, heading for the formalities the situation
required.
She needed to sign the declaration that she was of sound body and mind
when agreeing to undergo the procedure. Furthermore they had to agree
on a time and date when to perform the deed.
The payment had to be received before any action was taken and Kelm
assured her to have worked out a price by the following day.
After signing all the necessary papers it was arranged for her to
return at the exact same time in 48 hours which allowed Kelm to prepare
and plan in detail how the procedure was to take place.
They shook hands, she flashed a brief smile across her face, then
left.
Kelm poured himself a small whiskey and lit one of the stashed away
French cigarettes that he kept for moments like this.

© Marcus Bastel