Running. Sprinting. I hear the far off sound of footsteps. I can only look ahead. I cannot see around me. Sounds are dull. I am numb. I cant see, red clouds my vision. I look at my feet, bare, plowing on the street. I look harder: not street. Wood. Weirdly stained wood. Floorboards that could only belong to a family of eight men. My family. My floor. My wood. The floor i have stepped on since i have been able...