Bill Forthings parked his muscular SUV at the entrance of the national park. The tall wrought iron gate was the end of the mega polis and the beginning of this man made piece of nature left as if unnoticed to barely touch the outskirts of downtown. Bill Forthings opened the door of his car. A squeaking electronic sound followed, he had forgot to turn his lights off, he always forgot to turn his lights off. He stepped out of the car but did not touched the ground immediately, he first put one foot on the step of the vehicle, then turned, facing outside and exposed his other foot to the environment. Finally, with a slight jump, he was out on the ground. The sky was a mixture of an indefinite color but it took no wits to see that it was bleached and unfriendly. It was not the typical winter yet but the air was crisp and piercing, the needles of the pines surrounding were already with the tone of the water in a river after a few generations of snow had drowned in it for the season. Bill Forthings started prancing and shaking his arms and head, shrugging his shoulders, making funny faces, as if electricity was running through his body. He entered the park with a tamer rhythm and stopped at the beginning of the main alley. He reached deep, almost to the bottom the conjoined pocket on his grayish switcher, a part of a two piece training set, and took out his player, he stuffed the ear buds in deep causing himself even a little pain. Bill Forthings bended forward, untied his shoe laces and tied them again. He was wearing a top shell, state of the art Nike, with white base and those chemical orange lines that glow in the dark, and traction control on the soles, and various other implantations. Bill Forthings raised up and renewed his former tempo. He set off down the lane. It was a long lane, going through this improvised forest of man planted pines. As Forthings was stumping ahead he passed several products of beauty, a fountain with a concrete bear bathing in it, a monument of a Latin freedom fighter, and there was even a squirrel trying to keep up with Bill. He did not see those tings, he was jogging. He was trying to stay fit, not that he was fat, and hairless because he was already thirty four and he was still single, that’s why he paid regular visits to the beauty salon. He wanted to be attractive and hoped that he could meet a nice girl in the salon, that is why he paid a fortune to lie in excruciating pain on the hair removal table. He met a lot of women there but never actually met them. He jogged because he wanted to be fit, he wanted to be stronger, besides everybody’s doing it.
He had been running for a while now, he was heading back and there was a vast darker collar rounding about the tips of his shoulders and armpits, and splashing on his chest and spilling on a thinner line down to his abdomen. His breath was now even more visible than before, he was shooting it ahead of his run, his glance was lowered and he could see with his peripheral vision the tips of his white trainers pounding on his sight with the rhythm of his heart meeting with the vibrations of the music. Bill Forthings did not really had any specific taste for music, so whatever was in his ears was indifferent to him. In about a hundred meters Bill Forthings could see his wheeled fortress. He shifted up to a sprint, his muscles were tense and heated up with the friction, tomorrow he was going to be in a lot of pain. He reached his car at last. Now he was feeling light and relaxed. He opened the door and reached to take out a plastic bottle of mineral water and a power bar. He tore savagely the wrap of the bar and took a slow bite that stuck on his teeth. He then opened the water and took a lengthy gulp, then he grinned while still loosening up with the same motions with which he began, he squirted a little water towards the path leading to the park and snickered. Then he turned around and jumped on the step of the vehicle and sunk in the darkness of its interior.
via Email