From the author: A stressful job. Her only relief is running, wherever she is, on her time. When does the stress become unbearable and running the only escape?
Ellen walked down the hotel steps, adjusted her purple sports bra, and snapped the elastic hem of her matching spandex shorts. She jogged across the square to the Embarcadero’s paved promenade that fronted the San Francisco Bay, her blonde ponytail whipping the back of her head to the rhythm of her stride. She joined a line of runners moving north toward Fisherman’s Wharf. Just visible on the edge of the grey fog, webbed in wisps, a silver-haired man in red shorts and a bright yellow shirt...