this morning #519.

this morning, deep underneath the weight of multiple blankets, she ran her fingertips along the edge of her legs, appreciating the way they had shaped into solid specimens of middle-aged muscle. they were her strongest feature, a product of training & races. achy but stable. quads & hamstrings that had suffered a few setbacks over the years but had still kept her centered. the clear-cut curve of the shelves in her calves atop ankles & feet that some pervert at church once told her were “the living embodiment of the phrase ‘jesus walks.’” she had no idea what that meant exactly but, though his strange sentiments were clearly misplaced, she knew he had damn good taste.