Romans & histoires Satotz Running

*** Mark *** It was Saturday morning and rather than using his treadmill, Mark had decided that running outside would clear his head better. He'd spent the night in his suite and had left very early for his morning run. As he jogged past the motel, he looked up the building and checked his fitness wristwatch. It was 6.25 AM.

I sigh, wondering if everyone will be this excitable whenever I want to make an announcement. “Settle down everyone!” Grace orders, her smile set into a playful smirk. She is clearly enjoying herself. As the crowd quiets again, I thank her before turning back to face the crowd. “I want to apologize for my behaviour earlier today but I also want to assure you all that killing my father was the right thing to do. As such I want to announce that the Run which is to happen in six months will be canceled.” I begin to explain, seeing confusion and shock amongst the crowd.

"I don't care about your comfort." "I am telling you I am going to make a mistake," I insisted, the blinding glare of the noon sun beating down on the exposed concrete until my vision swam. "Let me just clear fifty random crates from the north dock instead. That will give your runners enough product to move by midnight." "No," Cassius commanded, his gravelly voice dropping an octave as he stepped directly into my path. "You will learn the tactile difference of the water-refined batches today, Obi. You don't leave this grid until you can spot the purity blind."

Noah sat on the kitchen island stool, wearing nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants. His legs were propped up on an adjacent chair, wrapped tightly in bulky, black compression sleeves that rhythmically inflated and deflated with a loud, mechanical hiss. It was his post-race routine—forcing the blood back into his sore muscles after pushing himself to the absolute limit on the track. He took a slow bite of his bagel, chewing thoughtfully while his eyes tracked the movement across the living room.