Linchpin

Ttak! 

Ttak! 

Ttak! 

The rhythm is steady, unrelenting

Despite his best efforts, Boris couldn't silence the nagging premonition that gnawed at the edges of his consciousness.

  He felt as if Death itself was drawing nearer, its approach marked by the unyielding footsteps that echoed like a grim harbinger. 

The tapping seemed to reverberate through the walls of his cell, resonating like an unspoken evil omen 

Boris' fingers clenched involuntarily, his palms moistening with a sudden dampness. 

The smile he wore, a mask of defiance, seemed to waver imperceptibly. 

"I don't want to die today" he thought to himself. Boris is the Right Channcleor of the Republic. 

While he do not want to die, if he is supposed to die today, he would surely not die like a coward. 

The sound of the footsteps grew unnervingly close, each echoing beat resonating with an almost palpable tension.