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Tuesday 200 - #35

And you donít know which way was out so you turn and you run and you donít look back and did they say ďget himĒ or ďlet himĒ and you donít stop to find out you just move your feet as fast as you can, one over the other, arms pumping at your sides, blood screaming in your temples, jumping over puddles or splashing right though them, trying not to knock down people on the path who might be some help, but you canít really know, so you run to find somewhere safe but this isnít safe, this is the place that should only exist in the stormiest of nightmares, and you run and your your heart pounds twice each time your foot hits the ground, the wind whooshing in your ears, burning lungs clutching at air, the baby carriage a blur as you bump past yelling sorry but not too loud because the followers might hear, and you hurdle over the bushes that werenít meant to be crossed and the muddy twigs grab your feet and youíre flying now, running through air, landing on your hands and face and sliding through the muck and you hear them catching up.


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