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Description
LIMPO

I ran.
Just like every other day.
I ignored the blisters and bruises on the soles of my feet and the stinging that occurred every time I took a step. I ignored my taut muscles screaming for relief.
Sometimes, I'd forget why I was running. I'd listen to my body and stop before the memories came rushing back. As soon as the first sliver of remembrance made its way into my consciousness, I'd run again. This time, for the McDonald's dumpster. It truly is amazing how much valuable food they throw away to the mercy of stray cats and dogs. And people like me.
Exhausted, I leaned against the filthy dumpster and took a ravenous bite out of a freshly tossed cheeseburger. It must have been prime dump time. I tried to push away my own tear-stinging smell to the smell of the burger. When was the last time I bathed, anyway? Did that one pond by the river count? It might have been full of old soda cans and wrappers, but I got wet, right?
I scratched at my head for the hundredth time that day. No doubt my hair was a lice kingdom, dragon and all.
Why am I running again?
That's right. I didn't want to be anywhere near home.
I sipped on some melted ice cream and left the fast food chain that constantly saved my life.

It's probably safer than a main road, anyway.
Some way or another, I ended up in an apartment complex - the type that has mansion-like buildings lined up on either side of a narrow road, with multiple apartments per mansion. The buildings were uniform, each in the same bland gray paint.
The only one with any slight difference to its surroundings was the one with the lanky boy with stony brown eyes in front of it.
What did he want? Should I have just kept running?
After the absolute most exciting stare down in history, the kid gestured for me to come upstairs into his apartment.
Should I follow him? What if he's a serial killer disguised as a kid?
I stared down at the shoes that hid several months' worth of running. Maybe more. If I died, no one would miss me.
I mentally shrugged and followed the kid up the stairs and through the door.
My hands instinctively pinched my nose tightly. What died in a vat of rotten eggs and skunk farts?
Ha, skunk farts.
The kid's nearly black eyes seemed startled. I guess it was bad manners, but I'd rather be rude than die. Wait, was that how he murdered people - with the power of stench? He left and came back instantly with a cookies n' cream granola bar.
Sweet mother of all things that are good and right with the world - a food that hadn't expired!
My mind went on vacation and I practically scarfed down the granola bar before I could savor it. I sighed, both in pure euphoria from the granola bar and in relief that I hadn't eaten the wrapper.
The kid blinked in surprise. "Hi."
Hi? Of all the words in the English language to say at this moment, he said, "Hi?"
"Hi," I repeated.
"You want dinner?"
Was he really offering me a full meal? The suspicious look still on my face, I nodded. He gestured to the trash can overflowing with paper plates and napkins beside us. Wait - that was a couch! What was with his parents?
What? Who said that word? What word? La, la, la. Skunk farts and stuff.
I cleared out the plates to reveal a worn-out, stained maroon couch. Despite the fact that it was disgusting beyond repair, it was the most inviting seat I'd been offered in...
"What day is it?" I almost fell over in shock. I'd been on the run for over two years! Not bad for an eight-year-old, huh?
"M'name's Malloon," the kid told me. Weird name. Not that mine was any weirder...
"Limpo." I stretched out my hand. He shook it.

Description
LIMPO

I ran.
Just like every other day.
I ignored the blisters and bruises on the soles of my feet and the stinging that occurred every time I took a step. I ignored my taut muscles screaming for relief.
Sometimes, I'd forget why I was running. I'd listen to my body and stop before the memories came rushing back. As soon as the first sliver of remembrance made its way into my consciousness, I'd run again. This time, for the McDonald's dumpster. It truly is amazing how much valuable food they throw away to the mercy of stray cats and dogs. And people like me.
Exhausted, I leaned against the filthy dumpster and took a ravenous bite out of a freshly tossed cheeseburger. It must have been prime dump time. I tried to push away my own tear-stinging smell to the smell of the burger. When was the last time I bathed, anyway? Did that one pond by the river count? It might have been full of old soda cans and wrappers, but I got wet, right?
I scratched at my head for the hundredth time that day. No doubt my hair was a lice kingdom, dragon and all.
Why am I running again?
That's right. I didn't want to be anywhere near home.
I sipped on some melted ice cream and left the fast food chain that constantly saved my life.

It's probably safer than a main road, anyway.
Some way or another, I ended up in an apartment complex - the type that has mansion-like buildings lined up on either side of a narrow road, with multiple apartments per mansion. The buildings were uniform, each in the same bland gray paint.
The only one with any slight difference to its surroundings was the one with the lanky boy with stony brown eyes in front of it.
What did he want? Should I have just kept running?
After the absolute most exciting stare down in history, the kid gestured for me to come upstairs into his apartment.
Should I follow him? What if he's a serial killer disguised as a kid?
I stared down at the shoes that hid several months' worth of running. Maybe more. If I died, no one would miss me.
I mentally shrugged and followed the kid up the stairs and through the door.
My hands instinctively pinched my nose tightly. What died in a vat of rotten eggs and skunk farts?
Ha, skunk farts.
The kid's nearly black eyes seemed startled. I guess it was bad manners, but I'd rather be rude than die. Wait, was that how he murdered people - with the power of stench? He left and came back instantly with a cookies n' cream granola bar.
Sweet mother of all things that are good and right with the world - a food that hadn't expired!
My mind went on vacation and I practically scarfed down the granola bar before I could savor it. I sighed, both in pure euphoria from the granola bar and in relief that I hadn't eaten the wrapper.
The kid blinked in surprise. "Hi."
Hi? Of all the words in the English language to say at this moment, he said, "Hi?"
"Hi," I repeated.
"You want dinner?"
Was he really offering me a full meal? The suspicious look still on my face, I nodded. He gestured to the trash can overflowing with paper plates and napkins beside us. Wait - that was a couch! What was with his parents?
What? Who said that word? What word? La, la, la. Skunk farts and stuff.
I cleared out the plates to reveal a worn-out, stained maroon couch. Despite the fact that it was disgusting beyond repair, it was the most inviting seat I'd been offered in...
"What day is it?" I almost fell over in shock. I'd been on the run for over two years! Not bad for an eight-year-old, huh?
"M'name's Malloon," the kid told me. Weird name. Not that mine was any weirder...
"Limpo." I stretched out my hand. He shook it.