The ground shook with each footfall on the cracked cement. Ants ran in black lines to their pyramids of sand, hoping that the danger would soon pass. It seemed all time slowed down as another shoe smacked down out of the sky. In their desperate sprint to safety, the ants didn’t have time to realize it was only a single creature who ran among their civilizations. There were not endless feet concussing  around them, only two limited items in their own retreat.
Anthony Baker was running. From, to, at what? Just running because he could. Running to take in the horizon, the ever-closer line that could never be captured. Maybe  he was kidding himself. From. Away from. Far away from the words he didn’t believe and the actions he couldn’t understand: in short, school. The promise of endless knowledge had enticed him but the people he was forced to congregate with made the entire thing unbearable. He hesitated to call them peers because that suggests a common interest, something linking them together, and he could find no similarities.
Gasping for air as he willed his legs to keep pumping forward, he analyzed just what it was about them, those student. They weren’t particularly rude in any way. Not thickskulled because some understood subjects like nobody’s business. Were they naïve? No, their world was becoming increasingly obvious to them. But why was Anthony running? What did he need to escape from? What was the big problem with these people?
Connection.
A short lived realization. They seemed to get along with themselves perfectly well Together they laughed and joked, shared experiences and grievances. It was clear they weren’t incapable of interaction with each other. But for some reason, Anthony had found it impossible to break into those circles of trust. Some incompatibility that left him alone at lunch tables and silent in class discussions.
‘Too sad,’ he though to himself. ‘Focus on the good.’ It seemed to hard to do, so he concentrated on his running instead.
A steady rhythm overtook his thoughts, monotonizing and synchronizing any and all synapses in his brain. There was just that beat —THUD, THUD— as his shoes made contract with the ground. His head shook with each jolting step, the rhythm moving his tongue between his teeth. The rubbing made the rhythm begin to turn sour, blank, painful. But his body was difficult to stop, stuck in this steady tempo down the sidewalk.
Up ahead at the crest of the hill, the sidewalk disappeared, becoming a dirt path adjacent to a calm wood. ‘I’ll stop when I reach the dirt. Keep thinking. What is it I’m doing this for?’ Even he didn’t know exactly. It can be hard to comprehend what doesn’t make sense. ‘I’ll stop when I can put my finger on it. I’ll stop at the horizon.’