One foot pushes of the ground after the other, flinging dust and rubble behind him. His stride length begins to stretch as he springs from his toes. The man begins to speed up, now racing against himself. His face red with fury, teeth gritted, his whole body pushing its limits. In his hand he holds it, the key to her heart, the only thing that can save what he has. He can feel sweat on his brow, he's panting now, already exhausted but still less than halfway. He wipes the sweat away, spits the thick mucus from his throat. He eyes are wide, restless, darting one way and another, trying to figure out everything in one instant.
Half way, he darts across a large road, its clear, he checked. Time for his shortcut, he has little time left. He dives through a hole in the fence as he finished crossing the road. Bringing him to the top of a hill, a large hill, a rather steep hill. The man catches his breath, taking a 20 second break, before lowering himself and sliding down. He begins with the the left foot in front as he slides, then the lower half of his right leg to keep balance, his smart trousers getting torn and dirty. About halfway down he slips onto his rear and rolls a few times before stopping at the bottom of the large hill, the man now completely covered in dirt, the prize still in his hand. He stands up, pulling himself away from the cloud of dust and runs again, dodging trees and fox holes. The light is scarce through the thick canopy but he can see well enough to get to the other side of the woods without falling again.
As he does reach the end of the wood he reaches a small country road, without the use of grit, the road is icy and covered in a thick snow. the city had the snow cleaned away on roads and pavements, and barely any reached the floor of the woods, but here was a completely different place. All he had to do was follow the road until he reached the house of his lover, he was about three quarters of the way now. He runs, watching his step as he strides beside the road. The road is reasonably straight other than the one turn that hes coming up too, and another about a mile back. As he skids around the corner he sees a bright light, a car. He hears the screech of brakes. The skidding tires. The thud as the side of the car bonnet hits his legs and throws him over the car. The second thud as the car hits a tree.
His eyes open, his vision slowly focuses. A woman, tall, stands over him, but its not clear enough to see. Shes on the phone, he hears her talking. He tries to move, but his legs wont, and his arms are too heavy. He lies, weak, in agony. His fist still clenched, he wont let anything happen to what he holds. He'd give his life to protect it. His focus is back, he looks down at his dirty, blood stained suit. His legs in positions they shouldn't be in. He swallows a mouthful of sick and blood, then his view returns to the girl on the phone, she seems hurt, but not too badly. A limp, blood on her face.A familiar face, he begins to recognise her, realise who hes just been run over by.
His heart slows. His girlfriend, stood, in tears, fearing for him. He coughs, signalling her over, unable to lift his arm, he releases the object in his hand, a box, small, and nods towards it. She bends over, picks it up, opens it. A ring, diamond, rather large, sat between two rubys. Her face lights up, she bends over, thanks the man with a kiss. The pressure of lips on his aching face hurts, but he grits through, pushing a smile. He had planned on a romantic proposal, before she had left for her business trip, but this was the best he could do. As they were together smiling, waiting, the mans eyes close, he drifts out of consciousness. The ringing of sirens in his ears.
