But my pride over finally beating Colt at his own game only lasts for about two seconds. It fades away, replaced with longing and regret. Because what just happened between us? It feels a lot more final than what I’d been hoping. But isn’t it what I want? To finally end this stupid charade? I don’t know anymore. And my victory? It doesn’t taste sweet. Actually, it tastes like shit. I hate it.
