He looked at the door every day as he walked past it in the hallway. This door was the unguarded exit to freedom, freedom that Aaron longed for. He no longer wished to be cooped up, having useless information shoved down his throat. Sick of people breathing down his neck, all that he had to do was push that door open and slip out.


No longer could he resist the itch, it had been suppressed long enough; it was time. Walking down the hall that afternoon instead of passing the doors and going to class, he clutched his books tightly to his chest with one arm and used the other to swiftly open the door. A waft of warm fresh air swept into his lungs, and he placed one foot in front of the other and began rapidly walking towards the road. Aaron didn’t look back, and he stashed his books away in some bushes the first chance he got. As he walked through town he decided to walk until he dropped, and so he did. Through town, around some parks, over a bridge, along a busy road, he walked. And when he was done walking, he stopped. What impulse might he have next?