10:30 P.M.

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My head throbs. My heart pounds. My muscles tense. The somehow familiar metallic smell fills my nostrils, and I look dead ahead at the man in front of me. He's tall and lanky, like a bean pole with a coat on. If the wind were any stronger, it'd probably blow him off the sidewalk. He glances behind him often, walking just a little faster each time he does. He's afraid. I can smell it on him. What a strange sensation, to smell fear. It is so alike the smell of blood, but a little more putrid, as if slightly rotted. With each breath through my nose I feel my whole body feel as if it wrestles just a little more out of my control. I can't take it. I've gotta get him.  Ive got-

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