Umair, a twenty six year old boy works as a delivery boy in some corner of Karachi, Pakistan. One Friday, he reached a gate of a posh, luxurious building on his motorbike, with a pizza on the seat of his bike.
He pressed one of the bell buttons on the intercom, expecting a voice on the other end, firstly, identifying the building to which the voice belongs to. It was a voice coming from a young girl or a woman; he couldn't differentiate which, but it was rich and soulful, and beautiful too. It told him to go up to the seventh floor and left the gate open for him. He thanked the person and climbed the stairs, with his motorbike.
He kept on pushing the intercom button, of the house for some minutes, but there was no response from the inside, of the house. It was late, of around eleven o'clock at night, so the house had a lock on the gate. Probably the person didn't hear his calls. Umair, a little disappointed, stepped back a little and was going to leave the place, but the gate opened. It was a young woman, a girl of around twenty or twenty-one years of age, who opened the gate. She was wearing a night dress and was carrying a gun in her right hand. She was pretty, stunning even. She asked, "who are you and why you are here so late?"
"I'm Umair. I've come to deliver this pizza." He said and turned back to take his pizza back from his motorbike and was going to put it up on the floor, but the girl asked him to place the pizza there. He kept it on her coffee table and out his hands up and said, "I'm here to collect money."
"You're here to collect money?" The girl said and laughed, "but you know, I haven't ordered any pizza. I'm sorry for this trouble, sir." She said. Umair looked at her with some confusion on his face.
"Well, yes. It is a mistake on the other end, but it says that it is for 7th floor of this building." He tried to explain for himself for not understanding the matter.
"Yes, but there's no way you're going to get any money from here. Sorry, sir." She said and raised her head back for him to leave. He didn't say anything. He turned back to the gate of the house.
"What are you gonna do now? From where I'm standing, there is no way you are going to get any money from here. So, why don't you leave now?" She said, still standing at her doorway.
"No. I'm not going anywhere. I think it is your duty, as a citizen of Pakistan, to pay me something for delivering this order." He marched to the street and turned his face back to her. She went back into her house's premises and closed the door behind her. And then, the gate locked. He pulled at the gate but it didn't budge. He beat his head hard on the gate for no apparent reason, then he heard the gate open. He turned back to see that she had come out. She was now holding the gun, pointing at him. She walked to him and asked, "what is it you want?"
Umair was so confused, so startled and scared. He didn't know what to do. And then, out of the blue, he lost what he was thinking. All he knew for this girl was that, she was a real criminal, a criminal who's going to shoot him, a criminal who was going to kill a defenseless man. He started to pray to God, begging him to save him from this woman. His mouth was parched from excessive crying, his heart full of restrain. "Sir, please take me from this place. I don't want to face death, please save me from this place. I don't want to die but please save me from this place." He screamed, near the gateway.
The girl had a confusing expression on her face, wondering what exactly is going through this boy's mind. She turned back and closed the door.
The boy was crying even more on the gateway. Suddenly, from behind there was a car, a car that stopped right in front of him. He looked back, wondering who had stopped that car, but no one had emerged from it, just then. He turned back to see that the girl had pulled out the gun, aiming it at him. He was scared, but he didn't run, he just kept crying.
"Please she said.