Black Diaries

08. Only us two

"How... do you... stand this?" I gasped. My whole body was on fire, and not in a good way. My legs, my butt—even what little chest I had. It kept bouncing up and down in a totally uncharacteristic manner. Damn! For years my breasts had stayed flat and incognito under my shirt, and now they chose to make themselves noticeable, only to hurt like hell?

This world really wasn't fair!

My only consolation was that the track we were on wasn't really that long. I knew this round—I had sometimes walked here, to clear my thoughts. It was about 1.3 miles long and mostly even ground. I could manage a little above a mile, right? I wasn't a total wimp, right? I was a killer! A sexy killer with secret ninja powers!

I kept telling myself that while my muscles ached, screaming at me to lie down in the soft grass and die. It didn't really help.

Then we reached the point we had set out from. I slowed down, relief coursing through me. But my relief was short-lived when Chuck whizzed past me, and instead of veering off to the left and out of the park, started down the circular path again.

"Hey!" I gasped, supporting myself on my knees. "Where are you going?"

Stopping, he turned to look at me, confusion written all over his handsome face. "Well... on the next lap, of course."

"Next lap? How many laps do you normally run?"

"Oh, nothing extraordinary. Eight, nine, maybe ten. Depends on my mood. Why?" His face fell. "Oh, I'm so sorry. It's not getting too much for you, is it?"

My muscles screaming bloody murder, I forced myself to stand upright, and made my lips curve into the semblance of a smile.

"Too much for me? Whatever would give you that idea? Let's go running some more, shall we?"

About an hour later, the door to my apartment swung open with an ominous creak. I had often thought I ought to oil it. Today, however, that wouldn't happen.

"Oh God..." I stumbled inside, supporting myself with one hand against the wall. "Why the hell can't I keep my mouth shut when it's good for me?"

"Meow?" I heard out of a dark corner.

"If that's supposed to mean 'Is that a rhetorical question?,' then you're not helping!" I groaned.

"Meow."

"Oh, shut up!"

I just about managed to stumble into my recently installed shower, slip out of my drenched clothes, and turn on the hot tap before collapsing. The steaming water running over my skin was a blessing from heaven. My aching muscles welcomed each drop with eager arms.

Did muscles have arms? Well, some of them were inside arms, so, maybe. And maybe I was just too dog-tired to be thinking clearly right now.

Dog-tired... what a silly expression.

"I deeply resent linguistic dog-discrimination," I mumbled. "Dogs are very lively creatures. Other than me right now."

Something sleek and black passed through my field of vision. At first I thought a hearse was driving by—but then I remembered that this wasn't a garage anymore. Besides, hearses didn't usually have green eyes, right?

"Meow..."

"Oh," I mumbled. "It's you, Lucky."

"Meow!"

"You shouldn't be looking, you know. I'm not decent."

Lucky gave me a stare that made very clear how supremely uninterested cats were in that fancy human invention called "clothes."