In younger years he’d run to be alone. He only enjoyed it those days when he hit his high and felt invincible, as though no distance were too far. On those days he felt nothing. On the other days, he ran mile upon mile to find exhaustion so he might escape the chronic angers of the empty house and the dark corners of his mind through sleep.
Only now that everything was black did he see the irony of having found sleep an escape from the darkness encompassing his world and that he was always running away from the pain it held, in search of something more.
When the darkness of home overwhelmed, he’d left for the city; losing himself among its millions of lost souls. When Jenny left him there, he’d run for the bay, tearing across the country in search of it.
When life with Tomas flamed out, he’d moved north rather than share that huge city with him. He was laid off there, so he ran to the heart of the Midwest, his tires swallowing the road.
Midwest bridges torched he returned east where he met Syl. She stopped his searching. Her hazel eyes, flecked with green and gold, saw everything. They saw through him. When she looked at him, he felt full. He felt he’d found what he was running towards, peace.
She balanced his insecurities, made him feel safe, like he could explore who he might become, the shadow he saw in his dreams. He loved how she challenged him. When she asked what he wanted from life, he answered, “what I have, Syl.” With her, he meant it.
When they fizzled out, he was too tired to run. He felt old, the years too many to outrun, so he let the darkness catch him.
