Competition

I challenged Daryl. He's been getting under my skin recently. Hot shit with that crossbow. Strutting around better than everyone else, so carefree.

On the edge of the cliff, cool morning breeze blowing against our skin, we let fly. My arc is strong, jutting out. To my dismay, he's matching me. I push harder, steam rising, trying to overtake him.

Gritting my teeth, this is it. I'm going to beat him. He sees defeat coming. That's when he deftly picks up his crossbow, shoots me between the eyes. At least he has the common decency to whack my head off.