Ina was running. Running as if chased by someone, as if the destination didn’t matter, just getting away from where she was a step before. She ran, tirelessly, making no turn to the left or to the right, just straight ahead. Every time she caught herself slowing down, she’d try picking up the pace again. A speaker from somewhere was blaring out the news, what terrible things had happened this day, but she continued running, she knew all of this already. And even if she didn’t, there was no point in waiting. Cars were passing her to the left, and some times she would get the impulse to cry “take me with you! I don’t wanna run anymore!”, but she never did. It’d be embarrassing.

Because after all, she even was paying her gym membership fees to be able to use the treadmill.

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