The Struggle

By: Steve Fite

There wasn’t time to process it all.  He scrabbled for the fountain pen in front of him, cocked his hand back, looked at the point on the neck of his intended target that would cause the most lethal damage.  He had to strike now, fast.

But Layne realized in that moment who he was not.  
The pen fell lazily from his hand as he silently turned and walked out of the Kia dealership.  Layne would buy no new Kia today, and the salesman would at minimum live until he tried to screw the next guy out of fair trade-in value.

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