I’m running. Eyes closed, wet cheeks agsainst the cold midnight air… and I’m running. I know it doesn’t look like it, but I’m running. I’m tired inside to smile on the outside, to push that grin whenever somebody expects me to, to throw in a laugh that’s not mine. A typical act of fast food politeness, so I’m running. The weird thing is that I don’t know what I’m running from, I probably run because I’m tired.
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