“Did you run here?” “No cabs,” he pants. “Train too slow.” “Your cardio is abysmal.” Still bent over, he scowls up at me in a friendly way. “I run across two neighborhoods for you and this is what you say to me?” He folds over farther. “Hee hoo. Hee hee hoo hoo.” “Are you doing Lamaze breathing?” “Seems apropos?” He stands up, pressing his long fingers into a cramp at his side.
