Nadhir dug in his mind, trying to locate in his memories some indication of that phone number. However, there was nothing inside his head that could give him the slightest hint about it.

“That’s weird…,” he heard Jem mutter. Nadhir looked at him. His brother also had his eyes nailed on his mobile phone.

“What’s wrong? Did you get the same message too?”

“Yeah, look,” Jem answered, showing him his phone. Indeed, on the screen of his twin brother’s 'phone, he could read the same message that Nadhir had received, where he was asked to go to Sword and Book Café.

The brothers exchanged glances.

“And the sender’s number doesn’t ring any bells?” Nadhir asked. As he’d expected, Jem shook his head.

“We can try to find it on the internet,” Jem suggested.

The next fifteen minutes, the brothers’ eyes remained stuck to their mobile phone screens, a myriad of numbers and names sliding from one edge of the display to the other. However, they could not find even the faintest of traces of the phone number from which they had received the mysterious message, much less of who had been the sender.

With a deep sigh, Nadhir locked his phone, placing it, screen down, over the counter, crossing his arms as he shook his head. Jem, for his part, still had his phone on his hand. He threw a look at his brother, his head also moving from side to side.

“Nothing, right?” Jem said.

“Nothing. I don’t know who it can be, to be honest.” Nadhir let out a powerful yawn. “Well, I think I’m going back to bed. It’s almost five, hopefully I’ll still be able to sleep for a couple of hours.”

“Okay,” Jem replied, refocusing his attention on the phone screen. “Good night.”

“Good night. Don’t you go spending all night trying to find the sender,” Nadhir said, tapping his brother’s shoulder on his way to his room.

His head landed on the pillow and his body was wrapped in the soft, warm blanket, everything around him inviting him to descend back into the realm of dreams. However, Nadhir did not stop turning and tossing between the sheets, unable to keep his eyes closed for more than two seconds, for each time he closed them, the gleaming letters of the message he had received that night began dancing in his mind.

I don’t reckon I’m getting any more sleep tonight, he thought, after having spent what seemed to him an eternity of turning, tossing, and then turning some more. At last, with a sigh, he lay on his back, his fingers intertwined behind his neck, staring at the ceiling, which was barely discernible through the oppressive darkness that surrounded all around him in the bedroom.

Nadhir cursed the moment when, just as it seemed that he was finally drifting off, the first rays of the morning sun danced through the slits of the blinds, falling directly on his eyelids, which appeared to twitch, feeling indignant at such offence.

The young man took the blanket off him with a jerk, and his feet met the floor as he rubbed his eyes. He threw a fleeting glance at the alarm clock resting on his bedside table. Seven in the morning. Great. He could already sense how, deep in his temples, a sharp headache was starting to build up. Soon, it would wrap and press his brain, and it would probably stay like that all day.

Dragging his feet as he yawned scandalously, Nadhir walked through the hallway, crossed the kitchen door and lunged over the coffee maker. He started to brew some extremely strong coffee, and served himself a large mug. He sat at the table holding the burning mug between his hands. He observed, with an absent mind, how the steam swirled lazily as it ascended to the ceiling.

The fiery beverage descended through his oesophagus, immediately awakening his body. Nadhir felt his eyes open and his brain was overcome by a strange clarity. His tiredness began to dilute in the coffee, giving his bones a false feeling of having just awakened from a deep and refreshing sleep.

The first hours of the morning were quiet, Nadhir sitting in the comfort and silence of the apartment while Jem, no doubt, was fast asleep. It wasn’t until about half past ten that the young man heard the lazy steps of his twin brother approach the small living room. Nadhir, who had occupied the sofa a good hour ago was still curled up in it as his brother appeared.

“Good morning!” Jem exclaimed, sitting next to his brother. “Wow, you look bad.”

“I haven’t slept well,” Nadhir said, finding his voice hoarse, scratchy.

“Hey, so, I’ve been thinking about the message.”

“Yes, me too,” Nadhir said. “I think we’d be better off if we just ignore it.”

Jem arched his eyebrows. He looked at his brother, who shrugged:

“What? Doesn’t it look suspicious to you?”

“I don’t know… it seems strange to me, but suspicious, not necessarily,” Jem said.

“It could be dangerous.”

“They asked to meet in a public place,” Jem argued. “If they wanted to hurt us, they would’ve asked us to go somewhere without witnesses, don’t you think?”

“Well, if you put it like that…” Nadhir considered. “Maybe the message wasn’t even for us.”

“No, no. You said it yourself last night: the message you got had your name. And the one I got had mine.”

“That’s true…”

Nadhir stroked his chin, his gaze lost through the window. It was true that the message was addressed to them personally, so it could not have been a mistake. However, neither he nor his brother knew the sender. Not even their on-line search the night before had managed to clarify anything.

“So, what do you think we should do?” Nadhir said at last.

“I think we should go,” Jem replied. “We go, have a look, see who’s in the café. Maybe turns out it is someone we know. And, if we get there and see someone who just doesn’t look right, we can leave, and no harm done. What do you think?”

“Okay. We’ll go.” Nadhir said at last.