- I want to be a part of it. - they said without hesitation.
- Every person in this place is a member of the Mask.
Each time I exercised I felt the burden of my weak lungs. At twenty years of age I should've been at my best form, spreading youth at every step. Instead I was painfully dragging air that seemed to hate being inside me.
- Oh don't get philosophical with me, man.
Under my palm, the dark concrete evaporated and I tripped to the side. I inflated my chest but it felt like someone was squeezing my lungs with both hands so hard I heard the sound of air escaping a balloon. By my side, the baby terrorist stared with suspicion. Ignoring my limitations, I tried to keep going but my body wouldn't let me. Defeated, I leaned against the cold wall and slid until I touched the ground.
- What a pathetic way to die. - the skinny figure said in a sad tone.
Even close to a potential death I had to giggle. Juvenile rebel was right. Their attitude made me give them another look.
