Running....

She’s running.
Fluorescent lit corridors, people, piles of papers on desks, clean marble tiles, and more people… She’s running with her high heels, not caring if she slips. She’s here. That’s the door, the final step. She busts in, hardly catching her breath and hands in the document with not a word.
Her boss looks at it in approval, “Ok. You can leave now.”
“Thank you sir” was barely audible, because she left in such a hurry.

She’s running.
Long corridors, stairs, people in suits; finally, the parking lot. She gets into her car and hurriedly drives off.
There is it, “Kindergarten # 81” . She enters the building, and after a few moments she’s running back out with a kid. He’s barely keeping up with after his mom.
She’s running.
Car, keys, doors slamming, accelerator….
The black ford is in the parking of the shopping mall. She yells, “wait in the car” and runs through the sliding doors.
She’s running.
Isles, shopping carts, grocery, cashier, and she’s running again.
The tires squeak when she comes to a stop at the garage door.
She’s running.
Grocery, her bag, keys. Did she forget anything?
Oh, yes, her son. Run back to the car to get him.
She runs into the house. There’s no time.
She feeds her son while quickly preparing dinner.
She looks at the time. Two minutes left.
Ok, she’ll make it. Runs to the living room, jumps on the sofa and turns on the TV.
“I made it” she says with a gasp. She has a big smile on her face and her eyes are glittering with satisfaction.
A mother, a respectable accountant, a beautiful woman. But especially, she’s a great big football fan…

Dedicated to Marik.