Scenario: Morning Jog

The rhythm was everything. One-two, one-two — sneakers hitting pavement in a cadence so familiar it felt like a heartbeat. Shilo Carter’s world shrank to the swing of her arms, the burn in her legs, the thrum of music in her ears.

She looked every bit the runner she’d built herself to be: long brown hair pulled back into a high ponytail, strands clinging damp to her forehead; hazel eyes fixed straight ahead, sharp and unfaltering; her body lean, strong, and shaped by miles of punishment. The fitted black long-sleeve shirt hugged her shoulders, the hem riding slightly as she moved. Blue shorts with yellow trim clung to her hips, showing the curve of muscles trained for endurance. Her socks were pulled neat to the ankle, white shoes scuffed but loyal.

The cord from her wired earbuds bounced lightly at her side, tethered to the old blue music player tucked in her pocket. Each stride sent the device tapping against her leg like a steady metronome. She hardly noticed anymore — it was part of her ritual.

The neighborhood blurred past: chain-link fences rattling under barking dogs, empty driveways lined with cracked pavement, the occasional streetlamp still buzzing faintly from the night before. The air was cool but growing heavy, clinging to her skin until her shirt began to dampen.

She ran for more than fitness. Every breath came sharp and clean, washing out the memories of slammed doors, muffled arguments, the man’s voice rising too loud in her mother’s kitchen. Out here, she was her own — defined not by what she carried at home, but by how far she could push herself, how fast she could go.

Her ponytail snapped behind her like a whip with every step. She adjusted her earbuds, pulled her shirt sleeve over the back of her hand to wipe sweat from her brow, and leaned harder into the run.

Shilo wasn’t running from anything, she told herself. She was running for something — the freedom of distance, the brief illusion of escape. The streets were empty, the morning still young, and for a little while longer, she could pretend nothing was waiting for her at the end of this route.