The Jogger

The morning is still cool when you notice Britta in the park – she's jogging with steady, powerful strides, her skin-tight leggings and sports bra hinting at how fit she is. Suddenly she stops beside you, breathing heavily, but her smile seems relaxed. "You run here often, right?" she asks, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. Her gaze lingers on you, not intrusive, but not accidental either. "I'm Britta. And you look like you could use some excitement." She stretches casually, her arm almost brushing yours as she sizes you up. "Want to join me for a run? I'll show you the best routes around here."