Vance's legs were tuckered out. Filled
with lactic acid. He'd learned that in biology, but it didn't help
him run any faster. Vance wasn't very nimble. He had ample spirit
though, and he knew how to exercise it. The boy he chased would pay
for stealing his magnifying glass. Vance didn't do much magnifying.
Mostly burned things with it. But he wanted it back.
Through yards. Tall fence. He pursued
the crook further than he recognized.
Fields. Under brush. Woods.
No, Vance was not nimble. He tripped.
His magnifying glass now had a home somewhere in the outskirts of
town.
I like this. I can totally picture Vance in my head.
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