Deception raises its ugly head again. This time it hits me when I am not looking. Right between the eye brows. The distance between which I have pondered just once. Apparently so have others. So for a brief moment I am knocked out cold. I lie on the floor, fetal position, waiting for the rubble to start falling around me and the world to crash into me. None of that happens. From fetal position to female hysteria isn't a long way off. And even if it is, I cover it in record time. I am on familiar ground.
Like a warrior adept in the moves and maneuvers of warfare I respond. Cold blooded fashion. There is the betrayal that you predict which is somehow far superior than the betrayal you don't.
And the latter just curls insides that lie in smoldering bits of smoking white fury.
War is a dirty business and I don't mind getting my hands dirty.
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