Afterlife: Reincarnation

8

Turning the corner to my block, I slowed my pace, my legs burning with the buildup of lactic acid that I loathed but craved. It was a bearable, cathartic pain, and the main purpose of this endeavor. Stalling in front of my building, I paused, bending over with my hands on my knees, catching my breath. Checking my watch, I smiled. Only three days in, and I already improved my time. Maybe I wasn't as out of shape as I thought.

Replacing my hands to my knees, I leaned my backside against the cold stone wall of my building, taking a moment. The rain was falling in a light mist, and it was almost cleansing as it mixed with the sweat on my skin. My clothes were soaked, sticking to my body, but I ignored the irritating feeling.

It was only then that I remembered being in a similar position, my hands on my knees, breathless after a sprint, only a week before.

Be careful.

My own words echoed in my mind, and I stood abruptly, shaking my head at myself. God, I was such a wanker.

Pulling open the door, I stepped into my building, making my way to my floor.

Now that my run was over, the exhilaration that came with exercise slowly fading, I was left again with my thoughts.

Three days. I hadn't heard a peep from her in three damn days. I couldn't help but worry that something had happened to her. She had only just arrived, and had told me in her first message that they were well guarded. Surely, she couldn't have gotten herself into trouble already. But the thought had haunted me since the moment she mentioned the assignment, and it was a hard habit to break, this worrying about the girl.

The other irksome thought that didn't seem to want to bugger off, was my concern about her response to my email. I had kept it light, flirty, like we always spoke. Not that either of us were particularly verbose on a regular basis, but we had our moments of clarity and disclosure. Now that we were relying on writing alone as our only form of communication, I found myself trying to think of things to say to her. What would she want to know? Would she find this funny? Would she like this?

In person, we were both happy with the quiet, and silence. I had never met anyone quite like her, so much like myself, in that regard. It was pleasant, and relaxing. Well, when we weren't bickering, I suppose.

My email had been light, and casual, with the exception of my sign off. I had wondered, after hitting send, if it would confuse her. Or irritate her. Since neither of us had admitted any true feelings, but I had a feeling we both knew there was more between us than casual friendship, would my all the love cross a line that she didn't want to face?

The thought slipped into my mind increasingly often the longer it took her to respond. I had decided, about half way through my run and after passing a young, blonde woman who looked far too much like her, that if she didn't respond by tonight, I would email again tomorrow. For no other purpose than to let her know I was thinking of her.

Because I was. Constantly.

The moment I was inside my door, I started to strip. It was one of the perks of living alone, the act of being able to be butt ass naked whenever you wanted. As much as I hated the sight of my body, the feeling of being naked all the time was something I had always loved. I could remember when I was younger, my mother telling me stories of when I was a toddler. I was always naked. Running around the yard, playing in the living room. Apparently once I even tried to strip right in the middle of the grocery. My mother was mortified, but apparently the other shoppers got quite a thrill out of my 'little willy'.

Once stripped of my drenched clothes, I tossed them into the corner of the bathroom, turning on the shower. I took my time, letting the water both cleanse me and warm me. After bathing, I let my mind wander to Lane, and what she could be doing now.