A Blue Pill and Alcohol

It was early, but not too early when he lifted his head. Perhaps it was out of boredom with the ground beneath his feet. Dirt and gravel for three and one half mile, changing only briefly as you cross the bridge. Or perhaps something about the view onto the city had caught his eye.

Portland was just beginning to yawn and stir from sleep; the clouds were still thin enough to suggest that there was sun near by, rising somewhere to the east. His heart was pounding and the sweat was running into his eyes. The city has a real skyline to it, and it did, particularly at that moment. He had seen many cities with distinct skylines, but he had returned to this one. He pondered these thoughts as he rounded a corner, heading for the bridge where the ground would finally change, if only for a moment.

He could feel his limbs freeing themselves of the blue pill and alcohol from the night before. He powered on. Before focusing on the last mile, he noted the lack of cars on the streets and thought it was a good thing. Then one more thought crossed his mind as he looked across the bay:

I don't want to get used to this city without you.