Day 111

Let us tell you about a dear stranger we met.

He loved to jog.
He could spend hours running from his town to the next.
In fact, he did once.
He preferred to go at night, liked the peace.

He always went the same route.
Every Tuesday, Thursday and Friday evening.
From his own front door, to the town centre and back.
Always the same route, like clockwork.

Except for one time.

He took a wrong turn and stumbled on a large group of people.
All of them were dressed in old fashioned costumes and seemed
to be going about their daily business.
In fact, the whole street looked straight out of a Dickens novel.

Slightly out of breath he staggered up to the nearest person and
asked them what kind of event it was.

Everyone turned their heads towards him so sharply you could
hear their necks snap into position.
The woman he had approached opened her mouth as if to speak.
Her voice didn't sound right, it almost had a metallic edge.

She informed him that he couldn't be there.
He was too imperfect, too defective, too flawed.
But they can fix him.
They are such generous beings.

He tried to run away but they had surrounded him.
He hadn't noticed, they were so quiet.
They made no sound, not even a breath....

They weren't breathing.
None of them were breathing.

He was never seen again after that.
Don't worry, we made him all better.