this morning #7.

this morning, run run run. out of bed & into the cool, fall air hitting her face & the rush of the run & the sense of the dusk & the strength of the length of the pace. this was how it started on most of her days, when the city was quiet & calm. the people still slept. the streets still exhaled from the previous day. she blasted ramones most of the time but occasionally slipped in some brit pop for ryan. it was good to get away. get free. see how she could push herself this early, before her neighbors had even said a single word. before they were all where their noses weren’t welcome. before she was cornered. til then, she’d breathe deep..