"Run," she said. Run on and on through the fields like a never-ending sentence that runs on and on into the next idea, good or bad, doesn't matter, we aren't in school anymore, no one can tell us how to read or write, or stay in shape, so just run on and on, a sentence without parole, with nowhere to go and nothing to do but wait for time to come to a standstill, to stop on a dime with precision brakes, because it's your dime, therefore it's your call how long you run in the dark or daylight, it makes no difference to her, since she said, "Run," and run we must until we fall down, go boom, right there before the finish line, on the track, exhausted, delusional, running so damn hard no innuendo could burst through to succeed to reach the goal, the end of the race at the Olympics, the agony of defeat on TV where millions and millions can watch, the thrill of victory, someone else's day in the sun, the glory of lions, the pride satiated after the kill, we eat and rest, we hunt and prey, we run and chase, this is what she meant when she said, "Run," no?
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