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I see mostly shapes and colors as I run. No fine details. Just a big, old farmhouse that might be red, but in the darkness, I can't tell. I see the shadow of a silo rising up behind.
My tennis shoes are useless without the laces, so I stop and kick them off. I break into a sprint again. Soft, cool grass beneath my feet. I see a big white gate ahead. It's locked. I rattle it in a panic. I run to my left. There's a riding fence running along the front of the property. Enough to stop a horse but not a teenager. I stoop and climb through the gap between planks of wood and cross a narrow road. Rough and stony against the soles of my feet. It hurts too much. I have to slow down and lighten my steps.
But I'm soon into the dusty dark dirt. Some kind of track. It cuts through the middle of a
