Stretching in the Dark

I sat in the dark alone, stretching first one leg and then the other. I sat in the dark, and the steam rolled off my shoulders.

No one was there to see this. No one was there to see the steam rolling off my shoulders. Do you realize this? The steam was rolling off my shoulders. Kind of a manly image, wouldn't you say?

So I sat there stretching with no one else around, not a soul. Where two months ago at this time the stretching area would have been teeming with runners and walkers and bikers and toddlers, two months ago the sun would have been up. Now it was dark, so I sat alone.

The rush of traffic raced on the freeway overhead. A distant light from the Zilker Moonlight Tower shined bright white in the night. Mars glimmered overhead, between the deck of the northbound lanes and the southbound lanes, diminished in the inverse square of distance from its August close approach.

I sat there stretching in the dark and listened to the traffic, and listened to the air brakes on a bus behind me, and gazed up at red Mars and gazed down at the green bow-light of a sculling boat glide silently up the river.

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