A cold sensation, & you only notice now that something in your past has been eradicated Your existence itself grows dim Your opponent, Jacque, remains there, unassailable You try reaching him, yet a single glint of his blade &—you forget what you were supposed to do; You see a man, he calls himself Jacque, & a blade glint—A blade g—A blad—A bl—A— Before You Know It, Nothing Of You Remains