The Duel

The rain poured, and Gilberto held up his weapon.

David stood twenty paces away, his weapon still at his side. The two were drenched, water running down their faces, but their umbrellas remained sheathed.

Gilberto raised his left arm behind him, ready to parry and thrust. David chuckled, keeping his umbrella on the ground, one hand keeping it from falling over.

“EN GARDE!” Gilberto shouted, running at David.

David brought his umbrella up, but too late. Gilberto jabbed him in the shoulder, hard.

“Ow! Jesus, Gil!” David said, grabbing at his arm.

“Oh, shit, sorry David.” Gilberto said, lowering his weapon.

“No, it’s okay. Just going to be sore for a bit. Shall we go in?”

“Yeah, sure. I win, though.”

“Well, obviously.”

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