Is this how the greats fell? Was I great? Will I be remembered? Who will remember me?
The body is falling into the canal. It’s hands splayed out, a pistol falling from one, the other hungrily searching for the railing.
At least I hadn’t paid rent yet.
The water is cold and getting colder. The sky dark and shimmering through the water. It is dusk as always. A good time for a killing.
I would have done it the same way.
A knife in the back of the neck. An elbow over a railing.
Quick and efficient.
And then night falls again.
Something bumps the gondola, the inquisitive gondolier browses over the side at another body in the Duskvol canals.