half-crouching, with his left foot forward and his right just a few centimetres behind, he leans forward in anticipation.
"ready..."
he falls forward, succumbing to gravity.
the siren sounds.
on the edge of imbalance, his legs extends against the black, chipped tar. springing forward, his feet exchange in rapid succession, each landing mere inches ahead of the other. he gains a slight lead, away from the entangled mob weaving together behind him.
the pounding begins.
-----------------
if i were in your position
i'd give up all my ammunition
i'd wonder why it'd taken me so long
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