CRACKED

DAY TWO, HOUR 12

How about an old-fashioned game of hide-and-seek, boys? Love, m

There is probably no better sound than that of blind panic. Flurry, scurrying mice frantically grope for order above me. I smile to myself; this exhilaration is what I live for. In fact, it’s the only reason I’m still alive.

Lexington’s crawl space is more of a crouch space if you ask me. My body quickly grows accustomed to the low overhang and the darkness as I meander my way through the echoing emptiness, my breathing lighter than a moth’s wing.

If you stood a foot away from me you’d never know I was there.

I quickly grow bored of this particular nighttime escapade and decide that enough is enough. They’ve been searching for a good three hours now; the building is simply that massive. And I know the ins and outs of it far better than they do.

I sigh. This cat and mouse game is so…passé. Been there. Killed that. Challenges in a world of mediocrity are hard to come by.

I slide back up through a vent and wait for them to come and find me.