I ran away.
I ran away again.
Then, again, I ran away.
They found me when I hid in the shed, tucking myself behind the lawnmower amongst the spiders, cobwebs catching on my lashes. They locked me in, saying it would teach me a lesson. I was found by others hours later, curled up against the rusted watering can.
They found me when I ran for the forest, slowed down by a backpack unwisely stuffed with apples and a jar of peanut butter. They pelted me with clumps of mud and pine cones.
They didn’t find me the third time.
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