78. graffiti under a bridge

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I fanned myself delicately, knowing that I must be sparking half a dozen rumors by doing this sort of manual exertion.  However, if our chase had a chance at saving my nation, let the gossip mongers be damned.

Pushing the darkened lenses up onto my head, I listened to the sound of the water rushing by.  By instinct, my eyes closed.

Exhaling calmly, I opened my eyes and looked again at the bridge.  Squinting, I saw what I thought was some sort of ancient pictograph.  Moving closer, it appeared to be the vague outline of a man.

Was it Excalibur?


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