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XXVII. Winning Chances

That convention day is too short to be ordinary. But Oneil stands between the relativity of time to only exist as is. He cannot recall his speech. And he can no more explain his feelings to extended details. Speaking to unfamiliar people and smiling faces grant him no myriad of mixed excitements and anxiety at all. Perhaps, in his attempt to suppress his stage fright, he lost excitement and delight.

He smiles and nods to those who greeted him after the forum. But he only felt empty inside. It could have been his defining moment for others to see that he is the standard-bearer of the Mercators. It should have been. All of them are convinced. Oneil can say it. Yet, it is himself he found the hardest to persuade. He got through that day. But what about another more to come? It is inevitable to not make that appearance the last one. So his thoughts rumbled at second's length to preclude his notice of time pas

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