I see

I see the relation: I run, I write. Take into account I told Ed, "Let's just wait until next week when I have the list to find the rooms," we left Shady Lawn early and it's not unreasonable to say I had motivation to finish my run on the bleachers during the double dose of high school and middle school track practice which, from an elevated view, consists of as much talking as walking as track and field.

(And I can inhale and exhale) and feel my laptop cool from hot-box car temperature to count-the-number-of-air-vents library temperature. That sentence took three-by-the-corner-clock minutes to write. I now have three more minutes.

There is a boy wearing a Redskins jersey. An older girl he calls "Erica" squatting with the whole bottom half of her leg on the ground, reading a couple pages. Two whole other kids, a boy and a girl, blond hair and early brown hair, young man's face and young woman's face, stepping around, sometimes looking on the upper shelves, sometimes not.