It had been one of those days. Anything that could have gone wrong, had gone wrong. The toast burnt; no toilet paper in the bathroom (why hadn't she replaced it?); missing sock (no doubt, gone to washing machine/dryer heaven). Even the washer fluid in the car had run out.
She caught every light on the way to work, and was already running late. The boss was supposed to be on holiday, but stood tapping his watch as she ran to her desk, mouthing her apologies to him.
Flustered, the day got worse as everyone in the office seemed to have questions for her, and by the time 5 o'clock came, she was ready to murder someone!
He was always there though. In the back of her mind. His smooth ways and his powerful movements. The Running Man was everything to her. He was her escape. He was the one who made those long evenings exciting. Who brought a smile to her face. He was the life and soul of the party. People laughed at his humour and others wished they were just a fraction as cool.
When he showed up, he took over everything. Her mind, her body, her soul.
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