Parkour Treasure Hunter

We are racing. I am racing against a group of three teenagers who are hunting down treasure. Yet somehow, I am not the man I see in my dreams – more like a shadow that sticks close to him.

He shimmies across the back alley windows of an apartment building. He is very fast and nimble, like a parkour athlete, and I can feel the contraction of his muscles, and also his fear of losing his grip and slipping off the window sills. As he travels along, the group of three teenagers already head back and laugh at him.

Even so, he reaches the corner of the building and continues up. At a certain point, a man tells him that there is a shortcut to the treasure by entering a door that is located on the ceiling. He goes up, I go up there with him, and then we appear at the top of a wide mountain.

By the time we get to the treasure, another group of teenagers appear, and this time we laugh at them. I don't know what the treasure is, but after that we are all standing around at the top of the mountain. A boy introduces our group to the other group. He announces which university major we are all in, but he doesn't mention mine.

That's OK, I was never really a chemical engineer anyway.

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