Pitt and i often had to be in District 9 on business for a few weeks at a time. His car was broken again, i had just sold my motorcycle, so we went by train.
Everything looks different from the train. What you see is the back of the country. It is not necessarily ugly, even though it is always messy. Demolition yards, garages, sheds, ditches, raked shrubs, the backs of backyards on the backs of companies on the backs of industrial estates.
At the station, when you look outside of the train, you can sometimes see corners that you would otherwise not see. When we arrived at D9-154, the train slowly rocked into the station, a dark gray convertible was parked on the sidewalk on a deserted square next to the station. A man and woman stood next to it, he near the driver's side, she about to walk away. They didn't seem to be able to say goodbye. We told each other, we noticed it.
The next morning the same car was in the same spot, now they were leaning against the car, the woman with her body flattered against the man's. Once again we both pointed out the somewhat strange situation. Why were they standing there like that? Was that every morning? Once again it seemed like they couldn't say goodbye. Was it a secret relationship?
Now Pitt and i are no strangers to the detective profession. Pitt once aspired to a position as a detective, but was stuck by certain criminal practices. I scour the internet whenever i get the chance, always looking for new sources and unprecedented connections. It didn't take much to give us the idea to investigate this.
The next morning we had free time, but we decided to go to district 9 again. We had the idea that the people from the night shift came from the nearby hospital. Pitt stood guard at the staff exit. I had taken cover near their farewell spot at the station.
Over the years, together with some friends, we had collected quite a few detective trinkets. Eavesdropping gadgets, tiny cameras that you could, so to speak, stick on your upper lip like a birthmark and operate with a tap on your smartphone. Our man cave was full of them. Which is not to say that i agree with the word 'man cave'; I'm not a man, and the cave is also mine and i like it there too; it is such a sexist distinction that makes no sense.
Pitt and i kept in touch with each other via earbuds and microphones. Soon he reported movements of P1 (the man; we had discussed why the woman was not P1, but anyway, i left it at that, it got out of hand).
It went well for me too. The car turned smoothly onto the square and sidewalk, in exactly the same place as before. Was it my imagination, or did i really see markings on the sidewalk? A moment later the woman arrived. In the distance i saw Pitt trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. Which i don't think worked out very well. And immediately made me doubt my own inconspicuousness. Anyway, we witnessed this silent romance again. P1 came out of the car, P2 walked up to him and kissed him, he suddenly grabbed her wildly and pulled her hard against him. Her headscarf slipped off her head, but they didn't notice. Pitt had gone behind a tree further away. I think we might as well have been standing next to the couple, they were completely absorbed in their intense kissing.
This took about 10 minutes. Then she stood against him for at least fifteen minutes, like the day before. Then they prepared to say goodbye. Kissing again, holding hands, kissing, whispering (i hoped Pitt had turned on his directional microphone), and when he walked to the door i saw exactly the same movements as the day before yesterday.
What the fuck was this?
'CUT! CUT dammit!”
A guy with red messy hair and a mustache came out of a large bus that had been parked there all along, waving his arms wildly. He came straight towards me, looking quite pissed off. Red-faced and all that. Pitt immediately came from behind his two-year-old planting, and quickly walked towards me as well. Redhead started yelling at me. What the fuck i was doing there, who the fuck i thought i was, Queen fucking Ann or something, and whether i even knew that i was fucking up the whole fucking shit and what the fuck it cost and all that . And he was talking about fucking mongols who always came to destroy everything, always fucking and always and always fucking.
Pitt hit him hard. Too hard, in my opinion. I actually don't think he should do that, it is quite aggressive, even though the man himself was aggressive, he was not physically violent. Not yet, at least.
Now everyone else joined in, it became quite chaotic. P1 knocked Pitt to the ground, the man looked surprised at his own fist, which was bleeding. P2 quickly picked up her headscarf and ran away towards the S33, which didn't seem like a good plan to me. Redhead was hanging on his back over the hood (there were indeed markings on the sidewalk, i now saw). A man wearing large studio headphones came towards me with a sound rod. I didn't wait for him to do something with it, and also ran towards the S33. Which probably made P2 think i was chasing her and crossed the busy road.
The fool!
When the first car hit her, my vision became blurry. A red haze. A haze that had no end. The shutters closed, so to speak. They didn't reopen until three weeks later, when i woke up in a hospital bed. They won't tell me how Pitt is doing. Nothing else. I do not know anything. Nothing.