It was cold. She felt it in her back pocket, and when she touched the handle her throat grew tight. It glistened in the windy twilight, and the cold air made her mouth run dry. Her palm ran over the blade as she watched him, pondering over the thought of finality. She had decided. Her quick fingers ripped down his hood in one decisive motion, and as he turned she gasped and shuddered. It was him...(CC) Attrib. NonComm. NoDerivs
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