The driver of no. 250 Stagecoach dropped me off by the soft shoulder of Wharfside Way. I headed east towards the pedestrian entrance. A 10ft red colored metal sign post with 'Welcome to Old Trafford' and Red Devil emblem printed on it stretched vertically across the footpath as I passed through. I walked up the footpath bridge connecting to the stadium and went straight to Unit 30.

Resembling a large warehouse from outside, Unit 30 is an administrative office for back of house and front of house staff to clock in and get ready to their respective stations during the match. Seeing rows of staff queuing into the main entrance of Unit 30, I decided to wait until the kick-off before coming back.

The stadium during match days would always be busy, flooded with tourists, supporters, passersby and street vendors selling handmade match scarves, merchandise, food and drinks. Excitement beamed across their faces, some were cheering and chanting, some loitering around the food truck area, some were walking around aimlessly admiring the structure of the stadium and some gathered around the smoking area, exhaling fag from their lungs. It was such a lively, merry environment.

I returned to Unit 30 during the kick-off, texting Alex of my arrival. I climbed up towards its main entrance and peered into the double leaf door which was still left open. I saw a few familiar faces behind the counter across the hall.

"You're not allowed to enter this area, ZJ!" my former boss, Victoria warned me from behind the counter. "Staff only, please."

"Okay sorry," I backed away from the entrance and asked, "Is Alex around?!"

"You can only see him after his shift," Victoria turned to look at the screen.

"Okay. I miss you too," I responded to which she said goodbye.

I looked down the platform of the metal staircase below me and saw Alex waving at me from the exit located at the ground floor. I climbed down and went inside through the exit. Rows of metal lockers flanking the isle when I entered the property, recalling my past memories working here. Alex unlocked one of the lockers and handed me the tickets.

"Sorry, only two tickets I could spare for you," he said apologetically. "But I got you the best seats as promised."

"It's alright, mate. Cheers! You did great," I said and took the tickets and handed £120.00 notes to him. "I appreciate that."

I left the stadium the same way I got in after obtaining the tickets and texted Abs on the update. As I got into the bus, Abs responded to my text, 'I thot I sd 4 tix?'

I texted back, 'He managed for 2 tickts.'

'K' he replied.

      ********************************************************************

"Any good?" the attendant asked as I walked out of the fitting room, holding a couple of Portugal and Barcelona jerseys clung to my arm.

"Yeah, I'll have the red one." I replied, discarding the unwanted top into a clothes hamper next to me.

I exited Sports Direct store and strolled along Market Street towards Piccadilly Gardens. The air was misty cool with the breeze that could hurt my nose as I breathe. Nevertheless, nothing else would spoil my mood, I was utterly excited for tomorrow's date with Abs. It's going to be a date, I declared. Two people of opposite sex are going to have the time of their lives watching his favourite star real live. It will be the best date ever, at least for me.

I climbed the upper deck of no. 111 Stagecoach bus and was about to return home when the phone rang and Abs caller ID displayed on the screen. I slide the green button up to answer. I could hear a hoarse voice at the end of the line, sobbing.

"Bro, you alright?" I asked, concerned. The sobbing continued.

"ZJ, I'm sorry," he sniffed. "I'm heading to London. Me uncle was murdered."

A sense of jolt darted into my spine when he uttered the word 'murder'. My jaw froze in disbelief. I quietly cited the Quranic verse of 'one belongs to God and to God he shall return'.

"How did it happen?" I muster a question.

"I ain't sure," he replied softly. "Some said that he was stabbed."

Hearing this has caused me so much pain. Not only that my night with Abs was cancelled since he might stay in London for a couple of days, I felt the pain he has to go through again losing another family member.

"You want me to come to London?" I asked again.

"No, don't. I'll be alright." he wheezed. "Besides, you've got a match to watch. Watch it for me, will ya?"

I sighed thinking that seeing Christiano Ronaldo up close would mean nothing without him. "Abs, I don't want to watch it while you're out there grieving over a dead relative. We're in this together, remember? Come on, I'll sell the tickets to Sid or James and come to London."

He gave out a long pause before he responded, "Cheers ZJ. You are a good friend that I will never forget. I'll share my location when I reach London. You be safe."

I ended the call after done comforting him with words of encouragement that he deserved. I leaned towards the bus seat looking at droplets of rain from outside trickling the window screen in a random manner.