PsychoBearLuvsFatKid

Sweat was glistening down his beet-red face in the July midday sun, lungs on the verge of exploding from the six block sprint to where he now stood, feeling his knees pleading to buckle from under him. John clutched a small brown messenger bag with both hands, knuckles turning white like a disgruntled driver behind the wheel. The smell of seawater and car exhaust stung his nostrils as he intently focused on the small battalion of New York's finest caging him in like lions would a baby gazelle. One more car roared in to the harbor, screaming to a halt on the soft pavement behind the pseudo barricade of law enforcement vehicles. John's eyes sl