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“Was it a joke?” she pondered as she waited for the phantom writer. ‘Boom’ a local clock started chiming midnight. The sound made her jump out of her skin but she felt warmth on her neck. She turned and there stood a handsome man dressed in a black suit. Over his left shoulder was draped a black cloak; he removed it and draped it over the young woman. “You're cold; let me help you.” He walked her into the house, an amazing light flashed, and there was warmth, music and people all dressed in long dresses and smart suits. “Where did they come from?” she asked. He turned and replied “They was always there didn’t you hear them?" It became hazy; she knew that she couldn’t hear them before, but now she thought she could. He pulled her to the dance floor and took her into his arms. Straight away she felt at ease like she had known him forever, but they had only just met. The other dancers cleared the floor and allowed them to dance alone to some slow music. He whispered into her ear as. My girlfriend was a runner: her club, the Colonial Road Runners, manned the water stop every year, and I got “volunteered” to help, finding that I actually enjoyed it. The relationship didn’t last; it seemed that it wasn’t just the long runs that caused her to come home hot and sweaty, but my interest in running did. A few years previously, I decided to give it a try. It took just a few days jogging in my everyday sneakers to get me to invest in good running shoes. I still struggled at first, but by the end of the summer I was running in weekly Fun Runs. After a couple of years, I decided to try my hand (or should I say foot?) at marathoning, which brings me back to being a spectator at Boston.I managed to snag a pretty good spot near the finish line on the south side of Boylston St., and was having a pretty decent time. Around three hours after the lead runners had gone by, I was getting ready to call it a day when suddenly there was an explosion right across the street, then another.
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