Gatan-gatan made the subway train every time it passed over a rail joint as it raced through the tunnel towards freedom. Squashed between commuters in the suffocating heat of the mid-summer night, I was already totally drenched in sweat - theirs and mine. I had opportunely lost my mobile phone half an hour ago in a trash can at Shinjuku station, so my father's men wouldn't have quite such an easy time tracking me. Gotomomi was the next stop and all I needed now to make my get-away was a change of trains and clothing.
20th place (out of 53) in the 21st Annual Interactive Fiction Competition.
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