Paranoia
It’s 12 days from the marathon, and it’s been pouring rain. I worry with every step that I’m going to slip on rain-slickened leaves and fall down. I stare at my feet as I walk, dreading an ankle roll or a knee twist. On the bus, I shrink back as the girl in front of me hacks and coughs. Can’t I just work from home for the next week and a half?

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