He ran into the room, his heart pounding and his clothes soaking wet. The boy closed the door behind him and pressed his back against it as strands of damp blond hair stuck to his forehead. He strained to listen for sounds on the other side of the door while the blood pounded through his ears and drops of rain mixed with sweat trickled down his face.
His hand went swiftly into his shirt and smoothly pulled out the leather packet. A sly smile spread slowly accross his face as he felt the cool, smooth surface of the leather in his hands. The work was worth it - the chasing, spying, and playing "innocent" were all worth it. The boss would be very proud of him for this. Very proud indeed.
I have a passion for art and an overactive imagination.
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He ran into the room, his heart pounding, and his clothes soaking wet.