As I ran, my heart pounding, thunder cracked overhead and I looked back to see if he was close behind. But no. There was nothing. Only the vast expense of the green meadow shadowed by the great graying sky. Unless he was somehow cloaked, not visible to the naked eye. I wouldn't put it past him to pull something like that. So I ran, still, though my lungs burned and my legs wanted to give, and it seemed my heart would pound my straight out of my chest.
And when the building came into sight, I pushed into a sprint so full of the strength in my body it seemed I could fly.
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There are those who say that life is like a book, with chapters for each event in your life and a limited number of pages on which you can spend your time. But I prefer to think that a book is like a life, particularly a good one, which is well to worth staying up all night to finish. — Lemony Snicket
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