By the third lap, Eli
had stopped pretending he
was exercising. The pond
didn't care how fast he
walked. His phone buzzed
in his pocket — four
missed things, none of
them fires — and each
buzz made his pace
quicken, as if speed
could settle the score.
He passed the same bench
three times without
sitting down. Sitting
felt like surrender;
walking at least felt
like a decision. On the
fourth lap, he slowed.
Just a little. The ducks
went on being
unimpressed. The bench
waited, patient as
furniture. He didn't
sit. But he noticed,
for the first time all
week, that his shoulders
had come down from around
his ears.