His feet were rocking back and forth as he thought to himself. A small carry-on sat on the ground next to him. He was debating on what to do when he heard a large bell ring. His heart sank and his features drained.
Now was the time.
He could hear the rumble of footsteps echo down the hall, voices emanating from all over as children were going outside to play. He was in the most rural part of the building, near the custodian's closet.
People will smell the smoke before they see the flame.
He heard them go out and opened his carry-on. There were a few spare pieces of clothing, some packed meals, lamp oil and matches. He poured the oil on the ground and lit a match. The fire bloomed and he opened the window to the front street. He squeezed out and ran off into the streets as the room behind him burned.
The boy escaped past the bystanders who watched as the flames grew bigger and bigger. Yells boomed and horrified onlookers gawked and pointed from the sidewalk. He slipped into the crowd and disappeared, never to be seen from again.