Timing is rarely ever ideal. “Run”, says my brain, “Stay”, says my heart. It seems like the hands of the clock move faster and faster the faster and faster I go. Quickly, little one, Fraulein, before it catches up to you. Before it hurts too bad.
As if the tears weren’t bad enough, I hear the tone of a message come through on my phone and with a shaky finger I open it. Not my proudest way to die.
I’ve always listened to my heart, but I think my heart is telling me to finally listen to my brain. Run, Fraulein.