The Girl on the Run

   “My beloved is mine, and I am his…” Son. 2:16

I watched her. Young. Woman. Girl perhaps. In black. Clothes. Black. Hair. Black. In flight. Running. First one way. Then the other. Looking for something. Or someone. I thought I recognized her. But she wasn’t who I thought she was. Someone else. Someone I didn’t know I came to find. Someone on the run. Searching. Looking. Seeking. Unable to find. Whatever it was she was needing. Wanting. Or both. Then we crossed paths. Ever so briefly. She to...