Rush hour had started. He kept up his jog, weaving his way through the foot traffic and conversations like a bike through the morning jam. Every step echoed -- he felt like there were a dozen eyes on him -- the sandals slapped against the floor. He'd have to do something about that. Later.
no subject
Rush hour had started. He kept up his jog, weaving his way through the foot traffic and conversations like a bike through the morning jam. Every step echoed -- he felt like there were a dozen eyes on him -- the sandals slapped against the floor. He'd have to do something about that. Later.
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