there was a crispness to my strides. i kept my pace in my head with syncopated numbers being grunted out.
one. two. three.
there was this pleasant simpleness to my run, looking back. compared to my usual runs, with my latest attempt at running a 5k egging me on from my phone, whether they be zombie, food, or geek themed, they all seemed so disappointed at my inability to crack a fifteen minute mile.
four. five. six.
there was no music accompanying me. i always half wore headphones on my runs, partly because the drivers here in Samidon lookout for bikers, not pedestrians, and partly because i felt suffocated with them covering both ears. i loved my eight bit beats pounding in my ear (they were effective for running at a pace, ironically) but i liked hearing the kids bleating on about lost baseballs, or sirens indicated someone else fucked up and ran the red at East Lincoln again, something that reminded me that yes, you were alive and do exist beyond the constrains of your studio apartment.
one. two. three.
there was no one else running. maybe they didn’t think they could. i saw kids looking up to the sky, mothers shielding babes under their breast, men weeping, pivoting away from the direction i was currently fleeing. slender youth, fixated, feet sealed to the pavement.
fourfivesix
there was rumbling. there was the subway doors. there was Emma, reaching out for my hand with such ferocity that I didn’t wince as her nails cut chunks of skin from my hands. the doors slammed shut. the doors slammed into the subway moments later, narrowly missing Emma, but instead bisected Mr. Timmowac, the door two feet deep into the concrete wall, with “Timz” as I called him howling some guttural blood filled death throe.
seveneightgogogogogogogogoddamnitgo
there was Samidon.
there was home.
Loading comments...