The woman is telepathic and could easily distract her attacker, but she runs anyway, her sagging breasts wet, sweat reflecting the moonlight above the empty sewage running parallel to her path. A noise emerges from her mouth, a panting and a scream, but itís stilted by the dead air and the sound of footsteps (approaching ever closer). She is nude save for a pair of high-heels stuck on her feet, her delicate stride disrupted by the insincerity of the shoe.