Friday arrived and I woke up ready for the fifteen-mile run, though later than I should have been. Entirely my own fault. I had lain in bed a few minutes too long and those minutes had multiplied in the way they always did.
I was not happy about going, and not just because of the time. Something in my gut was pulling at me in a way I could not dismiss as easily as I wanted to. I put it down to laziness and the low-grade anxiety that had been sitting in my chest all week while I waited on Phoenix's promised answers. Today was the last day of the two weeks. By tonight I would either finally understand what had been keeping him from claiming me, or I would be back to having nothing. The waiting had worn on me more than I expected and I could not shake the restlessness of it.
