Miss Park

From the window

I lay in bed, watching the minutes tick by at an impossibly slow pace, trying not to focus on the pool of guilt in the bottom of my stomach.

5.54 am...

5.56 am...

5.57 am...

5.58 am...

When the clock hit that last minute, I shot out of bed and snuck over to the window, peering out onto the street, but hiding behind my sidewall so I wouldn't be seen.

After making my way back to my bedroom yesterday morning after my run with Miss Park, I took one look in the mirror and nearly died. My bangs were sticking out in random places, my face was beet red and I looked like someone had tipped a bucket of sweat over me. Miss Park still looked hot after she had run for so long, meanwhile, I could barely stand to look at myself in the mirror without cringing from embarrassment at my appearance and the memory of my heavy ass grunting and breathing during the run.

My eyes trailed across the road until they landed upon an all too familiar brunette. She jogged up to the park, pulled her headphones out of her ears and began to stretch. Her outfit today was the same as all her others in the sense that it made me drool. Leggings and a t-shirt, one that clung to her skin with the layer of sweat over her body.

Now and then while she stretched, she would stand upright and glance around, like she was looking for something.

I realised with a pang of guilt that she was most probably looking for me. Waiting for me to join her today like I teased that I would, but I wasn't. I watched as she stretched, going over each stretch three times and very slowly, she was really dragging it out this morning.

She took her cap off and wiped her forehead, looking around once more before slumping her shoulders in defeat. She took off after turning on her music, her face looking a little disappointed.

I couldn't go back to sleep. Not with the guilt and regret I was now feeling.