I feel an idiotic grin on my face as I run.
The Patrol must have gone back to receive their cars instead of chasing me on foot. Their footsteps and heavy breathing are retreating. A good and bad idea; they never would of caught me anyway.
I was born to run, and in a way the chases were just practice. And now that they went back it’s a definite that they won’t find or catch me. I breath in, and the out, Feeling the cracked pavement underneath my worn-out convers.
I close my eyes and run along the path way that brings me home.
To my family.
I keep my eyes closed, not wanting nor needing to see what usually lies alongside my path. I know every detail of the crumble of grass, dirt, and concrete that used to be a sidewalk. So there’s really no need to open my eyes and have a look.
And then, lucky me, I tripped on something.
Or should I say someone.