She wasn’t a runner, she wasn’t a physical person of any kind, her body generally felt more like an antagonist than an ally, but it was as though her mind, that strange little capsule she thought comprised her whole existence, had broken apart like an egg so her body could revel in the sensation of the hard pavement shocking her bones, the sweat between her breasts and under her arms and in the roots of her hair, the glances of barely engaged passersby mere flares of color at the edges of her vision.
