Sitting on the leather sofa, my thighs swam in pools of sweat. The air-conditioner was broken, and I’d easily lost five pounds of sweat in the last hour. They said they’d be here to fix it by Friday, but Friday felt like a lifetime away – a long, sweaty lifetime.

As I sat, barely clinging onto life, Kimber burst through the door. “You’ll never believe who I just saw on my run,” she said in a voice that should have been breathless, well if it was mine, but she was full of energy and oxygen.

“Who, Santa Claus?”

“Yeah, sure, because he has nothing better to do with Christmas being only six months away,” she shot back in a perfect deadpan reaction.

I hated how she barely broke a sweat, even exercising. I broke a sweat just sitting here. Stupid air-conditioner.

“You’re not even going to guess?” She was already rolling her eyes at me.

“I guessed. You just weren’t happy with my answer.”

“Fine, be that way,” she was sour from my lack of playing.

I had no play left in me. It was too hot, and what little energy I had left I needed.

“Cole Parker!”

I perked up, “Cole?”

“Yeah, I thought that might get your attention,” she smirked.

“Anyway, I didn’t know he ran, but I passed him on the trail today.”

“Really?” My interest was growing leaps and bounds, but still I sat drenched and unmoving.

“I was thinking that this might be the perfect time for you to start running. I know you’ve been talking about it.”

Horrified, I gasped. “Talking, only talking about it – you know how I am. I don’t actually do things; I just talk about wanting to do things. People like me don’t run – slugs don’t run. I am a slug.”