The Foggy Logic

At the far end of the knoll--

one

waking before a heavy, heavy dawn

two

hand in hand with a fair shake

three

two guns--identical revolvers, in fact

four

there were decisions to be made as the labryinth set in

five

pace and pace and pace and pace

six

cloaked in tweed--shortbread on their breaths

seven

the recalling of a daguerreotype buried in his pocket

eight

and a Saturday untouched in its ability to evoke desperation

nine

nine

ten

the pocket watch was weighing him down

eleven

none the wiser

twelve

and suddenly he remembered

thirteen

Aaron Burr had it all wrong

fourteen

an ill conceived notion

fifteen

turning around didn't much matter when the fog hovered over your face