Night Terrors

Chase

I’m running and running, down streets and through alleyways, as fast as I can. I’m running out of breath.

And there’s this man who is right there, constantly. He’s just walking. The faster I run, he just walks, catching up to me with ease.

I hop a fence; I turn a corner; I fly past onlookers; I step on homeless people passed out in the trash; I venture out into the middle of the road and bolt like lightning. Then I turn around, and there he is, walking at a brisk pace.

His eyes are alive, an icy fire. His hands are hidden within the pockets of a long black trench coat. His boots make the eeriest clopping sound. And his eyes are alive, an icy fire.

Who is he? Is he me?

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