The Runners

It was the beginning of the last day of the last night.  In the forest were the trees.  You can try, but you can find the way it has always been.  Only through the jaded alleviation can you find true happiness.  

But what does that mean?  I argue that it means you have just landed a new job with gargantuan power torches.  That’s right.  Don’t pretend you don’t understand.  Because you do.  You have always known this.  You forgot.  It began on the night of the last whirlwind.  Chances are you remember at least that.  

Somehow, in the dark, fortune smiled upon the last glasses of righteous anger that he had for playtime.  Oh, that wasn’t play.  That was as serious as a heartbreak.  The kind you clean up with a sponge in the operating room at your local cardiac unit.  

If only he had righted those wrongs when he had a chance.  It was no longer starving.  The earnest monster deep inside him that panged for attention.  Now he had Edith.  She would be by his side until the next time he had the urge to run.  And run he would.  It only takes a spark to see that light in the midnight of her deep purple eyes.  It was inevitable, he thought.  Only now he could solve the riddle.  

“Pack it up,” the foreman said.  He woke up from a reverie only he had half-forgotten and images blinked out of his consciousness like the factory lights.  At home, later, he would remember the girl on the train who had only looked like she could be Melanie.  If he had only had the courage to talk to her like that one time in Berlin.  So many years had passed and now he could only see fragments of the memory.  It wasn’t anger anymore.  It was numbness.  It was apathy.  It was the eyelid of a dog who was sleeping, but keeping one eye peeled for danger.  He didn’t really care, but he couldn’t be sure it was over.

“Someone told me you had someplace to be,” she said.  I had told her that, but she had forgotten.  Meanwhile, all I could think of was swirls of color.  Purple.  Red.  Light blue. Yellow.  Big paint strokes coalescing into an image of a runner.  Where was she going? Right off the page.

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