"John! Where..." Her words were lost as I slammed the door hard behind me. I moved at a rapid pace. I was already past the neighbors' house when I heard her yelling for me to come back and talk to her. She caught up to me and ran-walked beside me until she was out of breath."John, where are you going. You—we need to talk. I love you. I am not doing this to hurt you. There is still an us, really. I love you. Please come back. John..." She gave up; I think she'd collapsed on the sidewalk, but I didn't turn to see; I couldn't look at her. She was in no way able to maintain the pace I was setting. I could still do a marathon in under three hours no sweat. Soon I was two blocks up the street, and she was no longer anywhere to be seen. I turned the corner and changed gears: I went into overdrive, as I called it, I was cruising; I could go forever at this pace and maybe I would.We'd met in college. She was handing out cups of water to participants in a 10K tri-meet. I had won the race that. "That's not too likely. I guess he was just born lucky." She paused for a dramatic moment. "Until tonight, at least." I guess."Several hours later, and back in his office, Bill Nelson tiredly signed the last of an awesome stack of forms, explaining the accident and his response. He picked up the stack and tiredly carried them to the elevator, which surprisingly enough was waiting on his floor. As he rode up he slumped against the back wall, willing himself the strength to stay alert until he could deliver the forms, sign out, and make his way to his upper west side apartment. Upstairs he flopped the stack into Doctor Austin's inbox and turned back towards the elevator. He got about two steps before a voice from behind beckoned him into the office."Bill."Nelson turned, resignedly, and dragged himself into the Chief Medical Examiner's office. It was a tired office, with worn carpeting and mismatched furniture, poorly maintained. The furniture ranged from WPA to 1960's modern. The.
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