Roadrunner
Today I saw him. Not in a dream. Not in my head. Not on a screen. In real life. At the dispatch office. And my body reacted before my mind could form a sentence. I hid. And then I ran. I ran like my legs knew something my heart didn’t want to accept yet. I ran like there was no dignity to preserve, only survival. There was a time when I would manufacture crossings. Take longer routes. Stand where I knew he might pass. Just to see him. Just to feel that familiar pull in my chest. Today, the same chest couldn’t bear it. I heard his voice. God — I loved his voice. It still does something to me. It still bypasses logic. For one second, everything inside me split. My heart went: There he is. My brain went: You cannot do this. You will break. My body chose for both of them. Run. I felt ridiculous and terrified at the same time. Like a child who has been caught somewhere she shouldn’t be. Like an adult who finally understands s...
