Graph 3: The jogger

He circles back.
He slows down.

His sight repeats the two college girls already dressed in shorts and sports bras despite the lingering chill, and the guy his age pacing behind them---still wiping the sweat from his brow with his navy t-shirt. He'd passed them all a few minutes ago. During those few moments when he wondered if what he'd spied could be real.

His eyes were deceived. Ya, that's it. He wasn't wearing his contacts. His glance could be fooled in haste. As he backtracked, however, he saw from afar that it was in fact what he had seen initially. He could not convince himself otherwise.

No tricks.
No fooling.
No kidding?

Now striding a few paces from it, his eyes dart around quickly to see if anyone else is watching. iPods and breathless conversations distract passersby.

He is alone in his pursuit.

With a clear path ahead, besides, and behind, he angles himself perfectly for a seamless pickup. At a snail's pace, he gently scoops it up, cradling it in the palm of his left hand, and returns to his usual path, trailing behind his former self. The self that took a lot of convincing to believe in a true sight to follow.

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