He knew he shouldn't have.
But he just couldn't let go.
So he kept his phone.
And re-read Johns text messages over and over and over again.
On a cold, flea bitten motel in Sibiria
In an, dark dirty alley in Chicago
Hidden in a bamboo forest waiting for his next target.
In the attic of an unknowing bank directors villa in Paris again hiding.
He didn't care if John would get suspicious when the phone didn't turn up.
But he had to have something to cope.
Because a world without John, was no world at all.