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I didn't care.
The international flight was boarding early; I picked up my pace as my name was paged. I ran.
People stepped aside and cheered me on—"Go! Run!"—and that echo in my head sounded like the eighteen-year-old me, clutching an ID and cash and running out of a poor village:
Run.
Run faster.
Claire, run.
Wind or rain, just run.
Get out.
Go.
(End)
