i wanted to walk her home

from the train station

but i knew it would only take me longer

to return home to him.

we bid farewell and she stepped off the train

before it continued its motion.

she waved through the window as i passed -

i didn't have time to wave back.

at home, i pulled on my running shoes

when suddenly i had an idea.

maybe-

no,

would it be too hard on him?

across the hall

papa was in the kitchen

preparing food.

every night i told him i would cook

and every time he refused.

over time i came to realise

it was his escape

just like running was mine.

i decided not to do it,

to invite him to run.

we both needed our time alone

as alone as we already are.