The Shark

The shark circled his prey slowly. Deliberately. The prey was aware of his presence, the shark was sure of that, even if they couldn’t see each other. He could smell the fear and it delighted him. Rather than go straight in to devour the prey, the shark wanted to prolong the fear, make it build. So the shark cruised in a wide loop around the prey and spiraled in ever so perversely leisurely.

As he did, he reflected on what it meant to be a shark.

A shark never sleeps. A shark must always be moving. Otherwise the shark will drown.

A shark, if wounded, will become prey for others of his own kind, who will come after him in a feeding frenzy.

A shark must constantly find prey and feed.

The shark decided he had kept his prey waiting long enough. It was time to move in for the kill.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” he said, sitting down, “But I’ll get right to the point, so we don’t waste each other’s time. Julia wants twenty, plus points on the gross…”

The End

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