It’s everywhere, all the time, and it’s a bitch.

Friction. Grinding down car tires, turning brake pads to dust, wearing away at our teeth, a motorcyclist’s leather coat and skin, the metals and plastics we build with; and when the wind picks up and excites the dirt and particles and leaves, environmental toxins infiltrate us with every breath, constrict our alveoli, store in our cells, poison us and riddle our bodies with cancer. And there’s no escaping it.

That’s what Cage thought, anyways, as he watched the runners make their way around the brick red track. He studied a group of three women, chatting and laughing as they jogged, who were occasionally passed by a man wearing bright white running shoes and oversized univisor sunglasses: a more serious runner, you might say. It was hot; the sun baked down on them, cooked the rubber track surface, and tall evergreens swayed in the warm breeze. The serious runner’s shirtless torso glistened with sweat.

“Hey stranger.”

Cage looked down and saw a woman at the bottom of the bleachers looking back up at him and smiling.

“Hey.”

“You ready to go, or would you rather sit out here and sweat all day?”

Cage stood up and slung a long black case over his shoulder. “Just getting a little color,” he said, making his way down the bleachers. “What took you so long?”

“I got caught up at the registrar. They screwed up my schedule again.” Despite her generally good-natured appearance, Cage could see she was a touch peeved. “Did you get what you were hoping for?” she asked.

“I’d hardly say I was hoping for any of it,” he said. “But yeah, it looks alright.”

The two walked around the track and made their way to an asphalt trail cutting through the pines. “You got time before you need to be home?” she asked him. “My parents are gone until six, or so. We could go get a Frosty.” She looked over at him. “You know, if that doesn’t interfere with your afternoon sunbathing.”

She poked his side.

He squirmed.

“Not tonight,” he said. “I’ve got something I want to work on.”

“I see,” she said, glancing down at the ground. It was quiet for a moment as they made their way down the trail. Just as they were about to leave the track out of sight, they heard a call from behind them.

“Deliah!”

They turned around and saw Robert, tall and tan and perfect-smile Robert who played tennis over the summers and wore polo shirts and khaki shorts and shin-high white socks, running up toward them. Robert had a weekend gig working for his father’s landscaping company, which undoubtedly contributed to his lean physique and melanin-rich glow.

“Hey Robert,” said Deliah. “What’s up?”

“Hey,” he took a deep breath, “I was wondering what you’re up to tomorrow night.”

“We’ve got a game down in Ruckstown. Why?”

“Oh, right, well…” he paused. “I was thinking maybe we could go out to the ridge together. Go for a little hike, you know?”

“Well,” Deliah looked uncomfortable. “Tomorrow’s no good.” Then she collected herself, seemed easy and smiled. “But I’ll think about it. Talk to you next week after Bio?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” said Robert. He looked over at Cage and noticed him as if for the first time. “Hey Cage.” Cage gave him a slight, close-mouthed smile. “Okay, well, I’ll see you guys later.”

Robert turned and trotted back toward the track. “Great hair,” Deliah said. “But he’s a little basic.”

Cage didn’t reply. They picked up and walked down the tree-shaded until it opened into a quiet, wooded neighborhood. The homes were close-knit, lining winding streets and surrounded by trees, yards blanketed in pine needles. Many of the houses had cars in the driveway, gathering places around fire pits in the back, but no one was out. Just Deliah and Cage and the rattling drone of cicada broods, lighted by the sun illuminating the translucent green leaves overhead. They walked a bit further up the block, and when they arrived at Deliah’s house she turned toward him and said, “Want to ride to the game together?”

“Sure,” he replied. “What time you want to leave?”

“How about I swing by your place at 4:30?”

“Works for me.”

Deliah turned away and bounded up the front porch. Before closing the door behind her, she turned back and smiled one last time. Cage stood and watched the door for a moment before continuing down the street alone. Back at the track, the glistening runner counted another lap, looked down at his wristwatch, and pressed one of the side buttons. There was a small, electronic beep as he kicked his brilliant white runners high in the air behind him.

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