This is the 163th, how tiring.
Liora's hand floated atop the door knob, waiting patiently for the pounding of feet against the floor that she'd long since gotten used to.
Before, her heart would bang against her ribs at the thought of repeated death, but now, she hadn't even a modicum of fear to constrict her throat and rid her of air.
"Help, he's running with my purse!"
The all too familiar voice rung to her left, a man again running down her lane.
She rehearsed this--studied it with enough intensity to recall the events about to unfold like a book.
Her fist shot out in front of her to land into the man's jaw, his hand running forward from his sudden loss of balance.
Bang!
Again, he accidently shot the gun laced at his fingertip, Liora's head swerving to the right to dodge its bullet.
"W-wait, get off me!" The man yelled at her while she gripped onto his wrist and ceased his descent, the sudden pressure causing the gun to fall out from his hold.
