Beneath a Weeping Sky

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Heather Torin never intended to be a victim.

No one ever does.

She ran the same route every day except Sunday, when she didn't jog at all. It was two and eight-tenths miles long according to the odometer in her Honda Accord. She would have preferred to jog a three-mile course, but the route was just too perfect and so she sacrificed the two-tenths in the interest of aesthetics.

Running was the one thing she did entirely for herself. She enjoyed the firmness it gave her legs and buttocks, but it was the mental benefits that kept her going out day after day. After her three miles, almost every frustration from her day was flushed out, pouring out of her with the sweat on her forehead.

Wednesday’s run was usually the hardest run of the week for some reason. Saturday morning runs were her favorite. She left before anything in her day had happened and with no frustrations to burn off, she experienced a calm that she imagined was similar to meditation.

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