Chapter 9 · free to read
Bout four of nine. The one they put on while the hall is still filling up and the radio desk is checking its levels.
Fourteen months since the count of nine. Four temple-fair wins nobody recorded. A body I had rebuilt backwards. And four hundred plastic chairs, most of them empty.
He fought the man I used to be. He kept stepping to my right expecting me to turn on that knee, and every time he did it, he walked into the elbow that had been waiting there for seven months.
Two forty of the third. The referee did not even count.
Artwork and narration generated with AI.