She moved with me, along the other side of the whitewashed fence that held us apart. Though we were never closer than a foot apart, she could somehow reach into my soul and leave her mark. We visited each other everyday. I ran and ran as fast as I could without leaving her side.

She lived in the estate next door, and my parents wouldn’t let me jump the fence. She couldn’t cross the fence even if she’d wanted to. She sat in a wheelchair. Her legs were paralyzed. Oh God, but I didn’t care. She was beautiful anyway, and smart and headstrong. Everything I’d ever wanted.

I ran, and I smiled at her. She liked to watch me run. It didn’t bother her that she couldn’t run too. I think she was really running with me, in her heart. It was like when I was running, she was with me; we were together. I think she became a part of me when I ran. That’s why I ran so much.

That’s why we ran away.