imagine running down a street in new york. tokyo. shanghai. buenos aires. anywhere really, but it doesn’t matter as long as it’s away. right, left. left again. across the street, through a fleet of cars. a honda is honking but it’s a minivan, what poor taste. now, imagine getting lost in a throng of people. still trying to escape. there he is. scaling the brownstone, hands gripping the loose bricks. another right turn. dodging into an alley and hoping he’s waiting at the top. hearing the sirens in the distance. leap up, grab at the stepladder. turning around on the roof to unhinge the ladder. looking at him and wordlessly agreeing. next roof. go go go. leap across street after street. fingers barely scrape the edges. inches from plummeting into the grasps of cops below. the highway. there aren’t any more buildings for miles to come. his face is glowing in the streetlights. is this where it ends? ‘no. it isn’t. get the cash out of here.’ the sirens are getting louder. imagine his lips. that they taste good. salty with sweat and delicious with recklessness. footsteps thud somewhere underneath the roof. it’s time. converse soles slam onto an empty balcony. ‘hey there, miss. you know it’s bad form to keep a convict waiting.’ two soft clicks and he’s cuffed. imagine his sloping grin even as he’s being led away. there are seconds to escape. jump off the side of the building. left around the corner. back to where it all began.