twenty four
"You're going to hell because you don't water you plants," Luke tells Michael. He picks up the dead leaves of what once was a healthy plant, "You are a murderer."
Michael peaks out from his en suite bathroom, seeing all his plants dead in the windowsill. "Hm, I guess I forgot to water them."
"Yeah, Mike, I guess so." Luke looks around the rest of the room, not used to seeing it in daylight. "Are you almost ready? It's been like half an hour."
"I'm procrastinating," he admitted as he stood in the mirror.
"It's just a run, we're doing this for the office. Don't you want to finally win the triathlon this year?" Luke sits down on the end of Michael bed, looking back on the unmade sheets. He quickly gets up, tucking in the layers and layers of blankets.
Something Luke would never understand about his coworker is his need for a half dozen blankets. Even when it's summer and burning hot, Michael will need to be buried in a few layers of sheets.
Michael turned off the bathroom lights and sighs. He leans against the wall, letting out another sigh. "I hate running."
"Then do the swimming or biking."
Michael moans, "I hate leaving the house."
Luke laughs and stands up to his full height. He places his hands on his hips and looks proudly at the bed he has just made. "We're just gonna do a quick mile today, it's not going to be bad, I promise."
Mike follows Luke out of his own bedroom, sitting down at the kitchen table to put on their running shoes. "I mean, that doesn't sound too bad but keep in mind I haven't run since the ninth grade."
"Why?" Luke asked with a laugh.
"Because I enjoy my knees not being torn apart. Humans aren't meant to run, you know, that's why runners have so many leg problems. They're tearing away at their knees and joints." Michael ties his shoes and stands up, taking the thin, black headband off of his wrist and pulling it up over his hair.
"Okay, Mike, okay."
Luke ignored Michael as he complained down the steps and out the front door. They were a tenth of a mile out and Mike already felt like he was on the verge of death.
Luke was barely in a jog and Michael was panting like a hot dog. A hot dog like a dog that is overheated, not like the food. That would be weird, food shouldn't pant.
They were over the hill of Michael's complex and about to make a right into the nearby park when Michael abruptly stopped. He slid onto a bench and looked up at his friend, "I'm not moving."
Luke, still barely warmed up, turned around, walking back over to him. "Michael."
"Hm?"
"Get up."
"No."
"Michael," Luke said again in a full-on mom voice.
"Luke," Michael whined, closing his eyes and resting his hands above his head, "I'm tired."
"We have barely run. It's been a forth of a mile."
"I was done with this running thing the second we left my apartment." Michael crossed his legs, peaking through his eyes to see that Luke was a little bothered. "Can't you just do the triathlon by yourself? I'll be your cheerleader."
Luke rolled his eyes, "If we run downtown, I'll buy you a donut."
"Two?"
Luke chuckled and shook his head, "I'll buy you half dozen donuts if you run."
Michael got up, already jogging the way.
