Spotlight (#3 of 365)

My mouth is dry. My sandpaper tongue glides my cheek for a bead of sweat to hydrate me. It is a salty mistake.

Sun burns me in spotlight. Shadows dissipate as I reach them. Bile yoyos my throat. Collapsing is a greater need.

I force my legs on. I stumble. I splutter. I rain sweat.

Stopping here means death. Going back means death. Pushing on means…

Means anything.

Beyond is possibilities or nothing. Risk is greater than being in the masses. I must do.

I reject the shadows. I need more. The pull back no longer has me.

I run to the untold future.

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