The First Run

To be honest, I don't remember when it all began. I think it was a Friday night. After days of only eating some bread that had already turned stale, I needed to eat something real. Not real as in actual food, real as in food that actual people would eat. Not food a homeless, starving kid would find in the trash bins. Oh how I dreamed of eating a warm, cheesy slice of pizza or even just a refreshing, cold bowl of cereal in a heated room during the cold fall. I had never stolen before, I was taught that it was morally wrong, but I could hold on no longer. I needed just a glimpse of a reality that I wanted to live in and that plate of food left unattended was just waiting for me. And so, I dashed towards the awning and I hoped over the ropes of the outdoor dining area and snatched away that plate. As the security guard was yelling "Hey you! What are you doing?" I bolted with the plate in my hands, and began to run for the alleys. Although it was only 6 o'clock at night, the sun was beginning to set and so I ran towards the only way out I knew, the darkness of the alleys.