Stop. Stop. Stop. Can’t stop. He might catch me, and…Hit! Hit! Hit! Keep moving moving moving. Maybe, allow for a breath. Legs all rubbery like Jell-0. Wobble stumble fall. Get up. Get up. Get up. I try. I fail. He slows. I breathe. He’s all cocksure. I breathe. He’s all nonchalance. I breathe. I can smell the Jim Beam from here. Can taste the nicotine. But all I needed was one-two-three breaths.