7.19c

He dropped his feet to the gravel and they bounced away. He dropped just one, but he was ready this time and he bounced into the recoil. His feet pounded into the ground too-fast. Slowly, he let go of the truck and ground to a halt.

He smiled, the dirt from the truck settling into a fine mud on his teeth. He walked back and picked up the bag he had thrown in the ditch. The ditchwater that was sopping the bottom didn't bother him at all.

He spat once, gathered his air, and set out on his new life.

Little did he know that he would soon be king of Bulgaria.

Little did he know that in a month's time he would be in love.

Little did he know that in a nearby city, his killers were waiting.

Little did he know that he would never see his mother's face again.

Little did he know that his bag would soon explode.

Little did he know.

Little did he know.

[this comes from reading a book with the LEAST SUBTLE FORESHADOWING EVER] (It's The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss)