she had woken as the sun came up and tossed and turned for at least an hour, going over what had happened. Why did he come back? Would he be back again? And who the hell is he? Eventually she gave up on sleep and, with a huff, pulled back the duvet. Deciding to work off some frustration by going for a run, she wasted no time pulling on her running gear, popping in her earphones and strapping her iPod to her bicep. She tied her long hair into a pony tail before she left. The cold air hit her when she exited the building. She did a few stretches before launching into an even paced jog, heading toward Grant Park. She’d specifically compiled her running playlist to build in tempo, to encourage her to push harder. By the time she was up to Eraser (her latest addition to the list) she was in a full sprint – running faster than the tempo required. Trying to outrun my demons. She found it difficult to concentrate on her breathing and where she was headed as the song brought up memories of her Friday night with Sir. She couldn’t understand why she was being so cruel to herself by playing that song again. I really do enjoy torture, apparently.
