Chapter 3 - A Single Blow
The man in the tuxedo turns, his face twisting into a scowl.
He steps away from the child, moving to block the older gentleman's path.
He reaches out, grabbing the shoulder of the dark navy suit.
"Control your granddaughter!" the tuxedo man shouts, his voice echoing off the high plaster ceiling.
"She ruined the showcase!"
The grandfather doesn't pause. He doesn't even blink.
His left arm sweeps upward, striking the young man's wrist away with a sharp clack.
Before the tuxedo man can recover his balance, the grandfather’s right fist travels in a short, brutal arc.
THUD.
The impact sounds like a sack of wet sand hitting concrete.
The man in the tuxedo flies backward.
His glossy shoes lose all grip on the polished marble.
His back slams hard into a tall wooden display board draped in black velvet.
The wooden structure collapses with a deafening crash, sending metal easel legs sliding across the floor.
Guests shriek, pulling their gowns back from the flying splinters.
The tuxedo man rolls onto his back, gasping for air.
A bright red smear begins to blossom across the pristine white collar of his shirt.
His lips bleed into his teeth.
May you like
The grandfather stands over him, adjusting the cuffs of his navy suit.
Not a single silver hair is out of place.
