It was as if somebody had cut the wires to all noise but his breath: uneven, but an anchor nevertheless. Silence otherwise.

There was nothing. Nothing but him and the run, the love of the chase. His muscles burned in an exhilarating way, and he was only partially conscious of the way the asphalt felt beneath his feet, rough and jagged.

No fear now; no, that had been replaced with pure energy and the feel of his heart crashing rhythmically against his chest. Every other thought had been diminished, like the universe had shrunk to revolve around him and the pavement beneath his feet.

And though his body fell when the bullets pierced his back, his soul was still running, flying towards the beautiful end of everything.