Groceries

Rick could gauge Alex's moods by the items on their grocery list.

Onions meant he was comfortable, secure in their relationship, happy to make food that left him with smelly breath and the possibility of farts.

Brie meant he was feeling uncertain and needing to feel a little more grown up and sophisticated.

Lemons meant Alex was nostalgic and would probably want to watch John Hughes movies.

Blueberries meant he was guilty, sorry for hurting Rick's feelings and planning on making him blueberry pancakes and breakfast for dinner to apologize.

Fettuccine meant Alex was determined, about to embark on a big project (either personal or professional) and wanted to fuel up and access his don't-take-no-for-an-answer Italian mobster side.

Snap peas meant he was nervous about something and wanting the fidgety process of zipping away the fibers from the sides of the beans, snapping open the shell, popping out the peas, and crunching the cool crispness.

Lite sour cream meant he was feeling athletic and would soon drag Rick on another 5k.

Root beer meant Alex was celebrating something, that he'd be exuberant and effusive and even more affectionate than usual.

Sweet potatoes didn't mean anything. Alex and Rick just liked eating homemade sweet potato fries.

Running at Night

Jordan doesn't understand people who run in the morning. He tried for a few weeks, muscles tugging in the sick, weak sunlight, eyes too wet, stomach queasy. When his feet slapped the ground it felt all wrong, as though the concrete of the sidewalk weren't fully dry. Is any race worth that kind of ugliness? Is good health?

Mornings are for pillows, heavy blankets, the soft skin over a woman's hip and behind her ear. Mornings are for showers, long hot ones where you might forget to rinse out the conditioner. Mornings are for toast with lite cream cheese, black coffee, National Public Radio.

Nighttime is for running. Jordan feels faster with the dark slips off his sweat, more powerful with the cool air on his neck, the only heat emanating from his body and whatever remains in the pavement. He prefers the calm yellow glow of old dirty streetlights, of the moon.

The Alarms on Jane's Phone

Alarm: 5:55 am - Wake up and go running! Yay!

Alarm: 6:03 am- Seriously, you have to run

Alarm: 6:10 am- You know you need to run if you want to be Erica in that 5K

Alarm 6:20 am- Wake up now and you'll still have time to stretch!

Alarm 6:40 am- Shower

Alarm: 6:47 am- You want to look good for work, right? Get up and shower!

Alarm: 7:00 am- Still time for a quick shower!

Alarm: 7:15 am- Want to look better than Erica today? Get up now

Alarm: 7:30 am- Now you're going to miss breakfast too

Alarm: 7:45 am- Looks like it's a ponytail and no makeup for you today

Alarm: 8:00 am- YOU'RE GOING TO BE LATE FOR WORK!

Alarm: 9:00 am - Fuck it. "Sick" day!