‘Twas always a risk, everything was a risk. ¿Should she keep the tempo low to keep her living, but also keep her rival up, or increase the tempo to get the rival out mo’ quickly?
There was no dancing round it: she had to be mo’ energetic than the other to stay on beat. There was no cheat code.
Better now than ne’er.
Patricia stepped the tempo up to the top. Deborah gasped, but stepped up all the same.
But the book slipped out o’ her hand. It seemed to thunk gainst the ground in slow-mo.
Her vision seemed to ring as she waited for the neon darkness to engulf her.