Everyone is still.
Hear comes the kill.
Just like an oblivious deer.
Then the finger grips tightly,
And the air runs out from the bottom of the object.
The Victorian booms like the sound of a buckshot,
Swirling in side close quarters, bouncing off the pink walls.
But wait, he is still breathing!
Have we lost?
Have we not concurred?
Have we lost our mind?
Not yet, he still has one more move.
That’s it! I got it!
I still got one more bullet to put in his back!
Ok, he made his move, and …
Check mate!!
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