The Last Deal

The old man sat alone in the corner of the café, hands shaking as he sipped his tea. His suit, once sharp, sagged like a memory too worn to keep.

A younger man slid into the seat across from him. "You've been quiet, Edward," he whispered, eyes darting around. "Did you bring it?"

Edward's wrinkled fingers tapped a faded briefcase by his feet. The younger man leaned in, eager.

But Edward smiled—a sad, knowing smile. "Not this time, kid. I'm done."

The younger man's expression darkened. "No one just quits."

Gerald's hand slipped into his coat, brushing cold metal.