Journal Entry 24:

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 [May 26, 2011]

A stupid blue car…a Prius I think it was.  He was fleeing the scene, chasing someone.  I was too far behind to prove it, but he couldn’t have been trying to ditch me, or maybe-No.  He was chasing someone else, again.  I am a 22 year old journalist, a frustrated, confused, coffee stained page writer.  I use to smoke.  With him old habits just die.   His clothing, his shoes and jacket suggest he had been staking out the place all morning.  It’s brisk out.  I had to keep the van running-my heater’s a piece of crap. 

            His mannerisms, his hair, the way he walked, even his height were all different but his eyes.  His eyes were a dead ringer.  Death. 

He once expressed to me, “We lose a part of our meaning, running from death because it is the order of life.  Nothing ever cheats death it’s simply a matter of timing.”  

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