Zombie Runs and Spinach Dreams

Maya's summer reinvention plan had three components: 1) Actually use her dad's old treadmill instead of it collecting clothes, 2) Replace vending machine Cheetos with spinach smoothies that looked like radioactive sludge but were apparently "good for her skin," and 3) Stop checking Jordan's Instagram story every forty-seven seconds like some desperate stalker.

By week three, she was still failing spectacularly at all three.

The zombie show marathon she'd used to numb her post-breakup feelings had seriously backfired. Now every time she closed her eyes, she saw Jordan's face morphing into a rotting corpse, and honestly, that was doing weird things to her healing process.

Running resumed. She was actually getting decent at it, too—could do a whole twenty minutes without wanting to die, which felt like a genuine accomplishment for someone whose PE teacher had once suggested she "maybe try walking instead."

Then came the dog incident.

She was mid-run, finally in that groove where her legs didn't feel like lead anymore, when a golden retriever launched itself at her fence, barking like it had personally offended by her existence. Maya screamed and almost tripped over her own feet.

Great. Now the dog thought chasing tired teenage girls was its new hobby.

"Barnaby! Get down!" A guy appeared in the neighbor's yard—Leo, from her English class. He was wearing boxers and a faded band tee, looking entirely too attractive for 7 AM.

"Sorry about that," he called, wrestling the dog away from the fence. "He's weirdly hostile toward runners."

"Noted," Maya wheezed, trying to maintain whatever dignity she had left. Her face was probably the color of her spinach smoothies.

The next morning, there he was again. This time fully clothed.

"Hey, spinach girl," he said, leaning against the fence while Barnaby attempted to befriend her through the wood slats. "Smoothie tip: add a banana. Your current recipe looks like something that died."

Maya blinked. Was he—was this flirting? With Zombie Apocalypse Girl?

"I'll take that under consideration," she managed, between breaths.

By July, they were doing morning runs together. Barnaby would trot alongside, occasionally deciding random objects needed aggressive barking at. Leo made her spinach smoothies that actually tasted decent. And Jordan's Instagram? She hadn't checked it in weeks.

Funny how the things that chased you—zombie nightmares, heartbreak, a chaotic golden retriever—could become exactly what made you faster.