“I wish we could have been friends.” I begin to laugh, but it dies in my throat. “I forgive you. I’m not a priest or anything, but I forgive you. We’re going to fight, to kill each other. I’ll hold no grudges. If there’s a world after this, well, I’ll buy you a drink when we meet up again.”
As always, my old foe stands stoically in the shadows like he thinks I can’t see him. Ridiculous. And he calls me the showman.
Then I hear chuckling from the shadows. Funny, the one time I’m serious, and he finally laughs.
Tale Told 