That run was the closest thing to Purgatory I've encountered.
With every panic-fueled step, another vision, each one more vivid and horrific then the last.
The tears fell fast.

Cliché, I know, but everything faded but my breathing, painfully pushing in and out of my lungs, the fatigue, burning me, and my pounding feet.
People could have been screaming at me, but I was aware of nothing but the pavement ahead of me, blurred because of the tears.
Slamming the cemetery gates behind me, I slowed my pace. 
In all my fear, I still had respect. 
And as equally as the run had been self-depreciatively torturous, the walk was the slowest few minutes in my entire existence.

The End

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