In a mere 20 paces he'd be there.... 15... 25... now 15 again? The bricks wouldn't hold their shapes in his eyes. Dawn was fading into evening. For once, Three was in distress. Can't give into it. Can't think about it too much. The Man who will kill me... Five or One Or Thirteen Paces, He will turn back to kill me. The First Schizophrenic Man I have ever had the displeasure of dueling, His measure of time isn't like mine, But that does not mean he is wrong. Should I stop first, turn and draw... Right when I count to 10? Or should I wait until he turns, and draws? When he counts to the Square Root of How Long it takes to Smash into my Mother's Door? After Swimming under the Delaware River to pick up his own father's corpse?