Gene, The General

“Do you have any hint why your boss wants to talk to me?” I asked Dordo. He was attempting to light a fire from his lighter that was repeatedly put out by the strong wind. He seemed not to have heard what I said.

After successfully lighting his cigarette he blew a puff of smoke and said, “I might have an inkling but I’d rather not tell you. Better hear it from the boss directly.” If this was about my trade being tariffed or taxed or worse being taken out from me, I could not imagine myself agreeing with it. At stake was my livelihood and I would not accept and allow it to be taken just like that. Dordo was again reading me, not my thoughts, but the tense on my movements; the worry showing on my face; and the sign of my uneasiness. “Relax,” he said, “nothing to worry. All will end up well.”