for G. T.
In the mornings she liked to go jogging. That was the
word for it, a leisurely loping across the tracks and
up the hill to Highland. She couldn’t quite call
it “running,” not with all the gainfully
employed citizens darting past her
for the 87 bus to the Green Line.
Talia’s employment, at a charitable
organization where she churned out grant
applications and donation requests and received an
earnest, disheartening salary, was just thirty hours
a week. So she had time for these long jogs.