He trod low beneath the slanted rim. A sheltered breakstone a cold bath bother to the right and fall flickering over lost tangents.

Hadn't better stay here.

And there a crusader -- the rustle of its long camel coat breaking five in five of the lot of em.

I hadn't been seen.

The hilt riding high at his wrist. Steel along the left arm flashed down inside, unseen and bottled. Heart a beating, breathing short and deep, nostrils mechanically flared.

I NEED A NEW JOB.

New way of not riding low dog down around the pit-bull screaming. Need a lifetime side temp near some puffed up restel. A diggit dodge tag pad where the three-bit hoosum won't push your tab.

Where you don't have to kill anyone.

Mechanically or otherwise. No more lay dirt spells. No more wax shoesies. A river I can't get across, but a job now nevertheless. And this last. Has gotta last, last, last.

Oh no. He spotted me.

Peddaling across the carpet at warp. Inert super-slow-mo feel medley break right across the edge. Down into the haze stream. Grazed arm. Spine blaze. Grid down. Lock down fully. Fooey.

So close to home.