Gezza was burning his legs as he ran, feet cracking the sidewalk, gasping breaths in the sweet air in the morning.
"Shit, if Mike gets me, I'm doomed!" he believed, heart racing, and beating like a war drum.
"Get back here, you bastard!" Mike sounded off in his roar behind, and with the tread of his heavy feet came a storm.
Gezza looked back and the bulk of Mike was increasing, his sneer a blade in the sunshine.
"Shit his catching up—" He crashed into somebody, and fell on the ground with a grunt, the collision shocking his ribs, pain aching. Up he scrambled, his eyes stinging with dust, then he saw Mike stoodd for sometime before retreating, and his figure had growing smaller.
"Why's he backing off?" Gezza muttered with a mix of confusion and relief his chest heaving.
