Damn. This is terrible. She is running toward me. I have to run away.

She is fast. I am not. I know she will eventually catch up to me and I’ve yet to formulate any answers to the questions I know she will ask. Finally, out of breath, I stop, hold onto a lamppost for support. As I sway there, heaving, she runs past me. It wasn’t me she is after. I don’t know who’s she’s after. But I know she will catch up to them.