Mini short story

Walking down the road, a flood of memories rush back at you, flowing with certainty as if the wind is carrying them. Each strikes hard and fast, becoming both unavoidable and undeniable. Your feet start moving faster and the soles of your feet begin to hit the pavement harder. Each breath becomes shallower as the wind rushes by you at a greater tempo. You try to lose yourself in the music streaming through your ears, but the wind never surrenders. The shadows are emptier, one less to fill its spot, and the only support felt is that of your own heart. You tell yourself to run faster, break away, leaving it all behind. The wind is always able to find you though, each separate breeze telling a much larger story. You make turns, trying to get lost within the streets you know too well. Each attempt is futile, leaving you carving circles through the wind. One whisper, one glance is all it would take. One hope, weak and fading, surrendered to the wind. In the end more circles may be created, the strength may sometimes be weakened, the stories may feel blank and meaningless, but the wind will always be there. The wind will hold steady, haunting you around every corner until the last shallow breath is taken, the clock is stopped, and freedom is surrendered.