It’s cold, and it’s dark, and Jack has sent away his shadows. He’s done for the night with a pocket full of pick pocketed items, and a deck of cards in his hand. He traces over the edges of them with the tips of pale fingers  and watches the night sky from a rooftop he’s chosen as his perch.
        He doesn’t see it at first; thinks it’s probably just a star, but then it’s moving and Jack’s running too, across the rooftops and over telephone wires. He’s in pursuit of this thing for reasons that not even he can name. But it’s fun, and soon enough he’s laughing because even though the other thing doesn’t know it, Jack feels like this is a race. 

@teen-peter​