It’s chilly and the air embraces your lungs — cross country weather. You remember running, don’t you? It’s been awhile. You wonder if you could even do it, anymore. Maybe you’ll try. A leaf falls. Maybe you’ll put your shorts on, slip on the shoes you’re too lazy to tie so you just keep them tied. You probably couldn’t pry the knot apart — when’s the last time you wore these? Gust of wind, more leaves falling. An empty water bottle rolls on the pavement and rattles with the drumming of all the little pebbles and leaves and twigs until it finally stops in a pile near a storm drain, wet and immobile. You don’t have time to run.