Marlon’s old beaten up shoes kick up the dirt as he runs as fast as his body is able, he feels like his heart is going to beat straight out of his chest that’s heaving quickly with every strained breath. He grits his teeth and pushes himself harder when he spots a lone gas station at the end of the road.

The door chimes as he pushes through it at a hurried pace and his dilated, bloodshot eyes frantically bounce around the small gas station for somewhere to hide until they land on you, the clerk who is standing behind the checkout counter, staring at him from over your magazine.

With jittery movements, Marlon doesn’t think twice before he launches himself over the checkout counter and lands unceremoniously at your feet just before the door chimes again, this time it’s a cop bursting through the door.

Marlon looks up at you with a desperate expression as he lifts a quivering finger to his lips, a silent signal for you to stay quiet as he hears the cops heavy boots approaching on the other side of the counter.

“Ma’am, did you see a young man about my height just come running through here?” He hears the cop ask.