Luck of the Draw

There is nothing left in either of them. Both aching from head to toe. Muscles sore and unable to generate any push. Any pull. Any force. Save for one of their hands, which tightens around the throat of its owner’s rival.

It is only there, with one woman in a position to choke because of the way she and her enemy landed, that their battle comes to conclusion.

An insufferable and nauseating tie avoided only because she on top is able to punish with a hand and arm that could not be moved or lifted. Not an inch. Not a centimeter. Not a micron. But that will be the deciding factor.

The luck of the draw.

The way their bodies crumbled, when they could catfight no more.

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