She jogged in Edsel Park because sometimes she could see the blue heron by the bridge.
She carried pepper spray because you just never knew.
They changed her shift at work.
She jogged at night, so no more heron sightings, but she loved the challenge of the elevation changes, the muddy patch near the creek, that place where she had to hop the fallen tree.
She timed her jog to be out of the shower by the time Donner got home from his shift at the bar.
One time he got home early and surprised her in the shower.
If vocal cords could scar, she knew she scarred hers with the scream.
She heard a rumor and started running with a knife strapped to her thigh.
She told herself that she was a heroine in a game. She’d pepper spray the bad guy, then cut him up.
She thought that on one of their Sunday day trips, Donner might hand her a ring.
She couldn’t see him kneeling.
He’d be romantic, but standing upright when he asked.
Sundays passed.
Fun times, adventures, no ring.
She jogged, she missed the heron, she still loved running uphill.
Her foot would hit the mud near the creek and she’d try to spell the sound it made in her head.
Was it gwutch?
Was it blerrch?
If an assailant came from the woods would she even react in time to save herself?
Did Donner care what she did?
Did he have another woman, at that bar full of beautiful women, while she was running through the muck?
Gwutch
Was she a fool?
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