Treadmill

Does she wonder what I ‘m looking at? My eyes sidle, lagging behind hurried steps, and I watch as she runs in place. Her arms and legs do not float so much as flop, and flounder. They imply the weight of limbs useless under the prickle of pins and needles; it is all that I can do not to stare. I want to ask her limbs, beg them for their secret –

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