Fiction | April 23, 2019

In the mornings she liked to go jogging. That was the word for it, a leisurely loping across the tracks and up the hill to Highland. She couldn’t quite call it “running,” not with all the gainfully employed citizens darting past her for the 87 bus to the Green Line. Talia’s employment, at a charitable organization where she churned out grant applications and donation requests and received an earnest, disheartening salary, was just thirty hours a week. So she had time for these long jogs.

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