Trinity: Separate Corners

Robert Quick

Where the -@!# did my muse go?

Writer, dreamer, knight, shackled by entertainment . . . and people.

I hate running. The thought wasn't mine. Or at least it wasn't solely mine. The walls in my mind dividing the three of us were the thinnest of paper screens and unless we were very careful, even the lightest thought bled through. Careful didn't apply to Duke. I could sense the purpose behind his thought this time. He meant for me to hear it. Me and the other guy. Andes, whose voice was also anchored inside my mind. Andes remained silent. Sulking, I imagined. Even my stray thought wasn't enough to elicit a response and he liked me. Mostly. Well he tolerated me.

They will catch us and we will fight. Why not fight now? Duke's thought reddened at the possibility of violence, the need to prove he was better than those chasing us, to show that he wasn't afraid.

I refuse to let you loose again. Last time was a mistake.

yes. Andes agreed.

So he was awake. I pushed Duke's growing growl of profanity to the back of my mind as best I could.

Despite our differences, the three of us moved in my body as one.


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