Ficly

Run Run Run

Footsteps echo in the narrow alleyway. First an individual, a quickened pace followed by thunder, a multitude. The alley opens into the busy street, the figure of a man bursts through a crowd of walkers and Peds. Pursuers cascade onto the sidewalk; feet stomp the wet cement.

The neon glare is blinding, the man clips a vid-board and falls to the ground. The followers take chase once more. He pushes himself to his feet, he’s sprinting now. Pushing a Ped out of the way, he ducks into another alley. He shoots up a fire escape, the crowd not far behind. At the top, the man finds no exit. The multitude is closing in, their shouts and howls grow louder as they pour onto the roof.

Just as he’s taken, the man turns. The neon lights stretch out to the horizon, the city that never ends.

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