Nine

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24.

I escaped once.

It was after a parade.

There were flags, cheers, and a car driving down the street as the person waved.

My bullet hit the target and the sound echoed like a popped balloon.

The red stained the white and blue more vividly.

I remembered it was warm.

It wasn't cold like Russia.

No one even spoke Russian.

The English was more familiar.

I was free for nine days.

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