And on the Count of 3...

Go

Full stride out the door. Head for the fence. Cut left at the wall and go straight. He imagines it all before he makes a move. It has to be flawless if he has any chance to get away.

Go

Legs burning, chest heaving. Running harder than ever before. He should have never worn his bright white shirt and yellow and blue Nikes. Too late to change. No time for regrets. He doesn't think they saw him head this way. Regardless if they did or not he's committed. This route has to work. The smooth fluid movement he imagined, bouncing off the gate and through the cut opening in the broken fence, fails painfully. He's face down in the dirt.

Go

He hops up from the ground and lets the wind blow off the dirt. He's made it to the hard part, running the broad side of the building unnoticed. He focuses straight ahead not wanting to check for them, lest he finds what he's looking for. He watches the distance between him and salvation steadily lessen. He wishes he was the Flash. He could make it there in a blur of an instance. He wishes he could be carried away in a breeze to escape this part and return to his normal life. His legs burn, his chest heaves. His eyes focus on his next obstacle.

Go

Over the 4 foot opening he feels the sweat running down his back. He becomes aware of the stinging from the cuts on his arms. He tries to savor the brief moment but can only think of how he got himself into this predicament. His grandma would laugh and say he's finally wrote the check his ass couldn't cash. His dad would say he should have listened and never went that route in the first place. Too late to change. No time for regrets.

Go

The fence ends. Straight shot now. Legs burning, chest heaving. He strides even harder now that safety is within reach. Suddenly a push from behind sends him falling through the grass. He rolls twice, stopping face down just feet from home. He punches the grass in frustration, then turns to his assailant. They stand menacingly over him. He looks up with determination.

Tag.

He's it.

Not for long he vows, clenching his fist. Not for long.


(I know this is not what Common was thinking on that song but this is what I imagined this weekend. Nobody wants to be it.)