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Détective Noir et La Trapèze

He woke up ten feet off the ground, tied to one of the poles in her act, his head aching like he’d just come off the back of a three day bender of hops and rye. And, the worst of it, his Burberry coat was missing. A spotlight came on, half blinding him. Squinting into the light, he spotted her in penumbra, a tightrope away, her long, athletic legs glitzy in tights stretching out from under his coat. Then the spotlight took to her completely. And she stepped out onto the rope, her balance extraterrestrial. She loosened a black button with every step she made, until, by the middle of her act, she was done with it. He marvelled as his coat fell. There went his Burberry, along with any case he had against her. All he saw now was the evidence. He was done for.

Illustration by Hannes Pasqualini.


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