This time I said it easily. Amy smiled.
“I like dating you too.”
“High praise.”
“At least nine.”
She waited.
“Ten.”
We ran beneath the downtown bridge. The marathon banners had gone up early this year. Blue flags hung from light poles.
LAKE CITY MARATHON — FIND OUT HOW FAR YOU CAN GO
Pressure gathered beneath my sternum. I kept the pace. Amy glanced at the flags.
“Seven weeks.”
“Plenty of time.”
“You sound like me.”
“Disturbing.”
At mile six, we stopped at a water fountain. I checked her gait. No issue. She checked mine.
“Your right side is tight.”
“I’m fine.”
“Be honest.”
“Fine.”
She stared.
“Six.”
“That is not a pain scale.”
“It’s an emotional scale.”
“Useful?”
“No.”
She smiled. We continued. The route turned toward the marathon course. My body recognized it before the street signs appeared. The slope. The shape of the buildings. The pharmacy awning at the next intersection. Sound changed. Traffic seemed louder. My hands tingled. Not panic. Early signs. I named objects. Red bus. Gray curb. Blue shirt. Amy. The last one was not an object. Still useful.
“Dani?”
“I’m good.”
“You changed.”
“Traffic.”
“There is no traffic.”
