That’s how I found my brand of inner peace. I would go for a run when I was frustrated, and I wouldn’t stop until all the anger was gone. By the time that happened, I was often in a new place. This time, my meditation led me to the catalyst of my current nightmares. I stared up at the warehouse with its broken windows and exposed brick exterior.
We’ll snuggle back up in bed. I’ll read the paper, and she’ll have her nose in one of her fantasy novels. She was always rereading them, the pages so dogeared and tatty. Maybe I’ll treat her to some new ones.
But, before I can muster a reply, she tenses and looks back up the road behind my Range Rover. “Someone’s coming.” She gives me a sardonic smirk. “Friends of yours?”
I gather my wits, and in an effort made of pure will, I croak, “Run.”
