But he again makes a mistake, already the second one in such a short time. I am not as defenseless as he would like. And yet I am not going to play the role assigned to me: either hit the run or hit the curb after the blow struck me. And I’m not going to join the discussion: the eternal mistake of our brother-intellectual.
Instead, I press one small button – and from a small handle of a small, supposedly folding knife, like a lightning, a small, only a few centimeters, blade flies out. That’s right: crashes, like bullet from the barrel of a pistol. And since I am aiming at the «master» in the eye, it means «there is a way for us there!»
The exchange of roles is made: my failed «murderer» took place as a victim. «Getting in the eye», he returns to the driver’s seat. But already back and cross. And in an optimized form: he definitely does not have one eye. A small blade hits with terrible force. Both of them – both the blades and his strength – are enough to work out not only the eye, but also the brain. «Rear view» is not available to me, but I have no doubt, that a few millimeters of the blade «enliven the landscape». And I do not guess, but I know: I tested it on metal and wooden objects, so to say, «conducted tests on the bench».
But the second eye can even be surprised. This remark is not to the issue of pathology: just a «protocol for inspecting the scene of the incident». For a moment, I even wonder if I hurried with conclusions. Well, in terms of the «final solution of the issue». After all, a person who is able to be surprised is not yet a goner! But next the moment we leave each other in doubt. First, the counterpart’s surprise is peculiar: only that he was in my place. After all, it was me who now had to revive – or deaden – the landscape with my «presence-absence». Secondly, the not-yet-finished man was already… a washed-up man. More precisely: finished off by me personally. Yes, and as a man, he ended long before his end. And, maybe, he did not start at all. And if so, then so be it! In the sense of: not to be him. And if they were to be only the former!
I look around. Not spy: not before the movie. I’m visibly nervous. Not because of the act of optimization: the situation and does not claim the status of «and the bloody boys in his eyes». I am nervous for another reason: our street is not at all quiet, because it is not a street, but the central street. But I am lucky: as ordered, the street works off the street. Along the line of living souls: none in sight. I hope that I am «out of the field». This is not for long, but enough for me to «get out of the battle without a loss». I am lucky. Although why is it «lucky»? Why should it be the other way around? After all, «the opposite» – and so is my daily «modus vivendi».