Run Darby Rupp
Breathe. Footfall after footfall. Breathe. Focus on the pavement, the passing houses and trees, the cool autumn air around, the pink sky with the rising sun. Breathe. A car passes by. The driver is touching up her makeup, maybe a morning routine. Why? Does she get up too late and not have time? Does she try to escape the house as quickly as possible? Breathe. A cat slinks out from behind a house ahead and to the right, then runs across the street. Where is it running? To another cat? To a better house that gives more food? Away from a predator? Breathe. Pass by a window. A frazzled mother in a business jacket and skirt is shouting, trying to get her daughter to gather her school things so they can leave, while she pulls on her high heels and puts on her earrings. The child, through another window, is unhappily packing her school bag. How often does this happen? How often does this child feel alone? How often does she feel misunderstood, or unloved? Breathe. A man is running on the sidewalk on the opposite side of the road. Stop. No, don’ t stop. Breathe. Breathe... Run. Breathe. Feet on the pavement, one after another. Breathe. There’ s only so far someone can run. From their house, from their problems. Yet people run. Do they ever run anywhere? Breathe.
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