Heart full of dismay, I paced to my desk, trying to propel myself to safety.

Weary had written all over my

body, just trying to duck out anything relevant in this horrific place. But it turned out to no avail. Which,
suddenly the planets aligned, so to speak, and there was a small silver of open space through that I
glanced through someone who is my acquaintance. I tried to scurry towards a lump of sugar but my
instincts refrained myself to do so. Knowing it was too late, he switched his focus to the guy who
grabbed his bag stripes with his bony fingers. It was him. The moment I glanced at his rather craggy face;
I knew a pneumatic drill was pumping deep inside me. It’s loud, clear and powerful. The sounds vibrating
throughout my whole body, begging me to cartwheel the way out. His face gave him a shriek of horror,
which then revolved whirlpools that emitted something ---- Half a raw screaming sound, half
concentrated columns of jumbled memories. The permanent scars in these emanations were quite at
odds done by him. I could feel goosebumps formed along my whole body in a rather break-necking
speed. As a victim, the one and only clear attempt is to escape from his vision. But he couldn’t. The
stream of horrific memories won’t seem to fade away, he knew his feet can’t help but vibrates like a
standstill engine. In a standstill position, he leaps out his hand, vainly trying to flap away from his vision.
What’s more, the slightly unbuckled rascal jolted away from the crowd, humping towards the rather
skinny guy in front of him. He knew this become, perhaps fittingly, his final resting place.