" The dusk light is impossibly bright. Timothy Squire is still pale, casting backwards glances as we run. After we are well free of the neighbourhood, I gesture for him to stop.
'You all right?' he pants.
I time it perfectly, and my fist connects, hard, with his stomach. He stumbles, falls to his knees on the wet pavement. Although his grip is strong I have taken him by surprise, and soon the knife is in my hands. "
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