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escritoireazulYou dream of her sometimes after her murder, and the first time you do, she frowns. “I never thought you would bring me death, oh most trusted of agents.”
Her hands are open, not fisted, and though she looks sad, sometimes, she does not ever yell.
Once she asks, “Did I end the Game?” And when you shake your head, she sighs and fades away.
The night she says, “The city still falls,” you wake shaking and cold, the taste of saltwater on your tongue.
