His fingers played the keyboard so rapidly that the page he was writing was full of mistakes. He peeked at what he has written so far, frowned, and closed his laptop. Then, he went to the kitchen and grabbed a can of beer. The can-opening sound gave him a cosy feeling. He can rest, at last. Read More
Peter is running fast from me. But I am faster, and I am not worried. When he turns around the corner, I start to run after him.
“I’m going to get you, Peter!”
Five big steps barefoot in the grass and I turn right. There he is, further than I imagined. Running as fast as he can. One, two, three, four… ten steps more, and I am close. I see his back, blue hoody, white shoes, golden hair. All I have to do is reach him. I move my hand, stretch it forwards. But all I grab is thin air.