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    rshort1202

    Monday, July 13

    by , 08-20-2020 at 05:56 AM (57 Views)
    Iím at what I think is work. The area looks like a large garage or warehouse or combination of the two. Itís somewhat dim, though there are two large doors open. Iím sitting in a chair and trying to hide an erection by raising my right leg and resting its ankle on the other legís knee and holding a pair of pajama pants as casually as I can over it. I think it may be out of my underwear at one point. Now, Beth (from JCP) walks in and starts talking to me, I think about her car. She looks slightly different than I remember. Now Iím in what must be the store. There are fairly tall and crowded bookcases. There is a corner that I think no one ever goes into, so I head over there to change or touch myself? I then remember and worry about the fact that there is a mirror over this section. Before I can do anything, someone calls my name, and I come over to him. We are now outside of this warehouse. There is a smaller building at the end of this concrete lot; I go over to it because I think it has a bathroom. Iím bringing the flannel pajama pants so I can change. Before I get to the door, someone stops me again. Iím glad he does: I look through the gap between the door and door frame and see a man with a gun. He is muscular, with short hair and beard. He grips the silver pistol with both hands, it poised and ready. I have the feeling heís looking for someone else, but still I donít want to be in his way. I also see into the bathroom. It is mostly barren concrete with what looks like a pit toilet. The base of the toilet looks slightly filthy. This open door is motley blocking this little corridor and Iím glad at the little protection it affords. This guy seems to be going back and forth with another armed man on the other side of this small, square building. Me and this other guy by me do so for a while too, not wanting to get caught in the middle. I now take an opportunity and dash away from the building. The two men come out from the corridor spaces into the open and begin firing at each other. The bullets travel slow enough for me to track them but fast enough that I imagine theyíd still cause harm. Each misses the other a few times. They are conversing during this; the first mentions how he was already shot and died? There is a sense that I did not have to run away from my spot and that it actually wouldíve been better had I not. I feel ashamed at my cowardice.

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