She feels her heart pound. She rises to the balls of her feet to shift into motion. Gravity pulls on her bones as her weight tumbles forward. The fall and catch of running takes her in a large arc. She controls the momentum for a moment to hang suspended in time and space. Her arms sweep and reach; the sinews taut, muscles balanced. The slick cartilaginous surfaces glide as she transfers the sweep of her arm into a sweep of her leg. She darts and flicks, plucks and punches the space surrounding her. Her final sweep brings her to the floor where at last she yields her weight completely into the ground. She is spent, lungs burning with each pull of air. Her heart pounds. She sighs as she rises from this moment of intoxication.
—R.M.