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Wayne didn't recognize the girl who began chasing him, but that wasn't important. Was it? His priorities were all jumbled, everything still whirling in his head. There was a point. He had the point. Surprise was lost. Time to go.

The smart thing to do here - the thing he should have done in the first place, the thing he had known he should have done, even before being noticed - was to run off with the entire bag. Sling it over his shoulder and go.

Instead, he hadn't. The bag was open, his hand inside, four food bars clutched in his grasp. He'd already transferred three others and a bottle of water to his bag before he'd been noticed. That was seven bars - out of ten? Fifteen? He'd meant to count. He'd meant to split them somehow, ensure some sort of... some sort of right to this wrong, but now he didn't have time.

With a grunt, he pitched the bag, contents flying out, straight in the direction of his pursuer.

Then he ran, his guilt dogging him every step of the way.

((Wayne Cox continued in AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH))
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