14.

She tumbled onto the groundskept football field, her body a glowing, surf-washed star. She lived for these flashes of post-running bliss, when the grass, like a tide of victory, lapped sweetly against her skin. Above her, the cerulean sky endured, then, without violence, dimmed as she watched, no bird or cloud the culprit. The dimming continued throughout the summer, biting at her heels like a chum-drawn shark.

grh

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