Midnight Run

Ajun went to bed early. He felt like he had a full day and refused to entertain himself by defaulting into watching a TV show. He was getting tired of the simple routines and shrugged at the thought of reading a book. It was much better for him if he just closed his eyes and fell asleep. He hardly slept. He dreamt of places and people but couldn’t grasp the meaning of his lucid dreams. No sooner than he had gone to sleep, he opened his eyes, fully rested, energized, he leaped out of bed and went directly to the kitchen for his routine breakfast. The full moon was bright in the translucent sky and the light spread it fingers across the horizon seeming like it was close to sunrise. He thought it was around 5 or 6 in the morning. 

But as he glanced outside, he recognized something he could not put his fingers on. He began to feel a creature inside him tugging at his core, trying to give him some perspective on time. He reached for his cell phone recognizing that it was not yet midnight. It was 11:30 PM. He had only slept three hours and was completely awake. Gathering his thoughts and looking at the absence of furniture in his apartment, he decided to go for a midnight run.

He ate half an orange with a little water and wore his usual running gears: pair of running shoes, warm socks, layer of sweats, t-shirt covered, long sleeve sweater, a winter hat, and gloves for extremely cold weather. The air outside smelt of burnt wood and decaying matter, which was pleasant to his nostrils. As he headed North towards the park, he noticed and absorbed simple shapes and forms. For him, those outdoor elements increased his focus in strange ways, giving him intense energy and purpose. Without his awareness to these often-meaningless details, there would be little need for him to go running. They intensify the experience, much like details in a serious relationship. 

 

As he circled around a well-known park, next to a cemetery, he heard voices from a distance, realizing that two people were engaged in an intense conversation. He couldn’t make what they were arguing about, so he slowed down---without having enough moonlight to see from a distance---struggling to make the faces of the people who were arguing. He noticed the silhouettes of one but didn’t have sufficient time to grasp the interaction. He considered stopping and maybe even intervening when his little friend advises him to keep going. 

 

He ran much further than he had expected. When he returned to his apartment, he seats outside staring at the moon. “It’s nice, isn’t it?” his friend tells him. He smiles but says nothing.

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