"How are you?"

The Facilitator looked over the overly
handsome tall man with the well-trimmed goatee and thin mustache connecting to a thin beard.

Calculating eyes hidden behind rapper Rick Ross-type shades.

“Oh, I’m fine.”

Who are you hiding from? “And your name?”

I hope no one catches me here. Gotta keep it gangster.

He thought about it. “Little Dick, Deep
Ass.”

Homosexual on the low. That’s why he’s hiding. And he’s married, nice wedding ring, pimping. I don’t understand why men get married just to turn around and cheat on their wives?

Anyways.

It’s not my problem.

I am not the one to be worried about what the next man does with his wife. It is not my concern and frankly my dear I don’t give a fuck!

The Facilitator checked his profile.

“You may enter. Remember, follow the rules.”

“I got you, pimp daddy,” he said, his voice full of southern twang. His gold teeth shining, he vanished down the hallway, towards the double doors.

He told himself he wasn’t going to tell
anyone he was HIV positive.

Why should he? The man who gave it to him never warned him, and he felt it was unfair to have ended up this way.

He had one goal in mind.

I’m going to infect as many people as I could and I will never show my face again.

He vowed it on his soul.