As he ran through a field, he ducked under an overgrown hedge and continued running, not knowing or caring where he was going. Plowing through the field, he ran faster and faster. The sun baked down upon his dirty face, his overalls were caked with filth. It was good filth, the kind that announces that someone his age has had a good day. The field ended, and then turned into trees and thicker brush. Faster and faster he ran, through a patch of thorns. His shirt tore, but all that he thought about was running farther, only curious where he would go next. Storming down a small drop, his feet pitter-pattered into water. The splashing of his feet interrupted a mackerel looking for food in the stream, which caught his eye, but just for a second. The water felt good and cool, and the boy found himself wishing that more had splashed his sweaty body; but he wasn't going to stop. He was running.

Flying up the river, banking, he soared, following a path that he had just located. The sound of beautiful nature was everywhere. The scent of woodland pine filled the air, while the noises of forest creatures was just as noticeable. The narrow path weaved in and out of the pine, narrowly missing each one. Pine needless and sap collected on his feet, especially because he had just emerged from the water. His heart pounding inside his head, the world bobbed up and down and images of his surroundings flew by faster and faster. Then, it became more vague, as if he didn't know what was happening. There was a screaming in his head that demanded "STOP!" He couldn't stop. He was as happy as he ever could be, but his heart kept on pounding louder and louder.

And as the old man looked up at the screen, he made out a solid line. A long, painful beep reverberated in the distance as he faded away.