Another silence. An announcement reminded runners that the expo would close in thirty minutes. Dani adjusted the packet beneath her arm.
“I should go.”
“Yes.”
I answered too quickly. Pain crossed her face. I hated causing it. I also did not correct the boundary.
“Good luck tomorrow,” she said.
“You too.”
“Run honestly.”
“You too.”
She turned away with Gloria and Lola. After several steps, Dani looked back. I was still watching. Neither of us waved. Then the crowd moved between us.
At home, Tessa prepared pasta while I arranged race equipment across the table. Shoes. Socks. Shorts. Blue top. Bib. Gels. Anti-friction balm. Hat. Hair ties. Watch. The package from Dani remained closed near the edge. Tessa stirred sauce.
“You can open it.”
“I have checked it six times.”
“I am not concerned about the contents.”
“You’re concerned about the feelings.”
“Yes.”
“Growth.”
I sat. The paper bag had no writing outside. Inside were four small packets labeled by mile.
MILE 6
A hair tie. My preferred kind. A note:
Shoulders down. You know how to begin.
MILE 12
A gel in the flavor I tolerated best.
Fuel before the spreadsheet requests supporting evidence.
MILE 18
A blister patch and a tiny gold star.
Safe is excellent. Walking is forward.
MILE 22
No object. Only a folded note. I did not open it immediately. Tessa turned off the stove.
“Do you want privacy?”
“No.”
