Demons by Ross Parson
Down on the hard, wet, sand, a man raced past, disappearing into the night fog. Their eyes followed him, then turned to watch for his pursuer.
"Just his own demons, I guess."
"Got any yourself ?"
"Just you sweetie."
"He'll run out of beach...or breath."
"Or, hopefully, demons."
"I guess it's always a race"
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