The Running Cure

Elena had been running every morning for six months — not from anything specific, but toward a version of herself she kept promising was just around the corner. Her knees ached. Her hair, once thick and dark, was beginning its slow retreat from her hairline, each strand falling like an implicit accusation about time's forward march.

The bull on her trading screen danced red and green, mocking her with its indifferent volatility. She'd made three million dollars last year and felt emptier than when she'd been three million in debt. At least then she'd known what she was working toward.

Her cat, a cynical Russian Blue named Kafka, watched her from his perch on the kitchen counter as she swallowed her daily cocktail of vitamins — D3 for her bones, B12 for energy, something else she couldn't pronounce but swore was essential for women over thirty-five. Kafka seemed to understand that health maintenance was just fear with a better marketing budget.

The message from David came at 2 AM: "Think I'm going to leave Sarah."

Elena stared at her phone until the screen dimmed. David had been telling her he was going to leave his wife for three years. The latest pregnancy announcement on Facebook had been particularly cruel timing — twins, due in spring, conceived, David had claimed, during a month they'd barely touched.

She laced up her shoes and went running.

The city was beautiful at 3 AM, empty and honest. Streetlights cast long shadows that stretched like fingers across the pavement. Elena ran until her lungs burned, until the bull and the vitamins and David's text dissolved into the rhythm of her breathing.

At home, Kafka greeted her with an imperious meow. Elena poured his food, ran a hand through her thinning hair, and realized she wasn't waiting for David to leave his wife anymore. She was waiting for herself to leave this life.

The vitamins went into the trash. The trading app was deleted. And when she finally texted David back, it wasn't about him at all.

"I'm done."

She set the phone on the counter and watched the sun rise through her kitchen window. For the first time in years, she didn't feel like running anywhere.