In hindsight he probably shouldn't have run. He was guilty, but he wasn't that guilty.
He thought he’d probably be in all the papers. He pictured his mother reading about him, maybe even seeing his face on tv. She’d be proud, he thought. He smiled.
He didn't think he’d really mind being dead. And he wouldn't die, not whilst people still remembered him-- a man is more than just flesh and bone.
He wished it weren't so cold.
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