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‘Damn, Livy,’ he said. ‘You were really messed up. I’ve never seen you like that before.’ He picked me up and carried me like a baby back to bed. I was too weak and too sick to protest. He covered me up and went away. I just laid there and suffered. He came back with a bottle of water and four ibuprofens. I was very glad to have them. I drank the whole bottle of water, took the pills, and collapsed back on the bed. ‘What are you doing here, Talbot?’ I asked him again. ‘Did you take my clothes off? If you groped me I’m going to kill you.’ He grinned. ‘I was afraid to leave you. You were messed up bad, Livy. Your clothes had puke on them, so I took them off and put you in bed. I kept checking on you. I didn’t grope you, but I wanted to. You’re pretty gropable. I’m bringing you your breakfast.’ I didn’t want breakfast, I just wanted to die in peace, preferably, somewhere far away from him. He brought back a plate with scrambled eggs and bacon on it, and a glass of milk. I didn’t want. I remembered that in one of those stories the couple started out by fucking in the bushes in the park. I dove into the bushes trying to find her, but I didn't find shit. Boy was I pissed at Bob and all of those other internet writers. I had thorns and thistles in my hair and my socks as I emerged from the bushes with a grimace on my face."What were ya looking for?" asked the other runner. You remember him. He was the guy I said I'd never spoken to. He picked one of life's most embarrassing moments to start a conversation with me. On closer inspection, he didn't really look much like a runner. He looked older up close and to be honest, crazier.I didn't want to tell him that I'd been looking for my imaginary perfect woman that the writers on the internet had promised me, so I held up my keys. "You look kind of off," he said. "Even when you were running; you just looked different. You didn't seem to be as focused or as happy as usual. Believe me; I know what that's like..." Oh shit," I.
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