On Adrenaline, or Running for My Life
“Last time I ran, I was being chased. By a stranger with a knife.”
I hate running. I hate my feet snapping off the ground in syncopated succession; I hate the rabbit-heart feeling in my chest. I hate not being able to breathe freely. I hate the sweat my body produces, the way it’s always working to keep me safe.
I only run if I’m being chased.
Where does Mom want to go? The diner?
Something weird is happening. I’m going downstairs. Call the police if you don’t hear from me in ten minutes.
he betrayed me
*Names have been changed.
Alisson's prose and poetry have been published in places including The New York Times, Dovetail Literary Magazine, and Stillwater Journal. As the founder of Pigeon Pages, nesting at Bookcourt bookstore in Brooklyn, she curates a monthly literary reading hosting diverse and emerging writers. She is studying creative writing and literature at NYU, while working on a memoir.
You can find her on twitter @literaryTswift and online at alissonwood.com.
Photo credit: nonlinearknitting.com
More in this series
A woman living alone has heard every story about the woman living alone. We constantly negotiate the knowledge of our vulnerability, both real and amplified by stories we’re told.