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Rooftop Ballet

This is my art, my music, my drama. Some might doubt its beauty, but to me there is nothing else. You’re just in time for the introduction.

Here I am, and there he is.

It starts off perfectly fair. We both know we’re in this waltz of weaponry, but finding the other first is the key to finishing alive. So we edge around our corners and peer down the streets, looking for the other. Always ready for the ideal opportunity, the magic moment.

In this game, you’ll never see who kills you. Only one in a hundred times will you even have an instant’s notice that you’ve lost. The right moment is the right moment, and the right moment for you is the worst moment for him.

The sounds outside this moment are plentiful; other men exchange bullets like news in the street. But to us, all is silent until the climax when all is made clear – one man dies, and one man lives.

And that is my Picasso, my symphony, my Hamlet. A dance of death. Make of it what you will.

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