Chase

A (very) short story inspired by a writers group prompt of Car Chase. Not so much car as foot.

Hot dirty air in my throat, into my eyes like pins, dust skidding under my bare feet. I never knew I could run this fast, this far, but it's still not fast enough as I still hear the runner behind me, shoes slapping in the dust. My teeth grind, my brain bulges. I want to scream, skid round, scream in his face, fight, kick, swing, the impulse is almost too strong. How easy it would be to stop, slide to the floor, curl up and cry. He'd just run past, right? Then it's done, and over. Right? Even as my body prepares for surrender, I see it. The car. Jay's car, it's dusty black sides streaked with peeling red stripes, windows down in the heat. It rests like a patient horse  "Where you been Jo?" A sharp laugh escapes as I see Jay in my mind, cooly shoving the keys behind the visor, thinking she's an old time gangster. I know the runner has seen it too, thinks he's got me as I yank the door, toss in the bag, and I risk a grin in his direction as the keys drop to my lap like the chime of a boxer's bell. The engine roars, the runner staggers and I'm away, screaming, laughing, heart bright and bursting. In the rear view he stands, breathing hard, smaller and smaller and...gone.