We clasp hands and pant, cold air burning in quick pulses down to our lungs. Our legs scream at the pavement.
The street lights dim and the fog liquifies. The buildings curve over us, increasing the emergency for escape.
We run until we no longer have legs, the windows had taken them.
The world forms a tunnel around us, as the buildings swirl into a tube of judgment.
We hear the echos from the windows:
"Wrong. WRONG. WRONG!"
But we keep going. We crawl as fast as we can.
The pavement makes bumps and waves, makes us slip, but we catch our grip again.
Our lungs are gone, the windows had taken those too.
We're choking, but we can see the light, it's coming closer.
We throw ourselves out of the tunnel and into glowing white liberation.
At the bottom of the light are people, people like us, some missing eyes, some missing limbs.
But they still catch us as we fall. They envelop us in a bright mix of colors. They hug us tightly.
We made it.